w 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


So. 


THE  THOUSANDTH  WOMAN 


(I  f  mm . 


B 


wcindiT    will)    can    liavc    (l(iiu-    it. 


THE 
THOUSANDTH  WOMAN 


By 
ERNEST  W.  HORNUNG 

Author  c/ 
THR  AMATEUR  CRACKSMAN,  RAPFLPS,  BTC. 


ILLUSTRATID  BT 

FRANK  SNAPP 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright  1913 
The  Bobbs-Merrill  Company 


'•BeS3     OF 

BBAUNWOHTH    &    CO. 

BOOKBiNOERS     AND    PRINTERS 

PHOOKLYN,    N.    Y. 


PR 


CONTENTS 


I    MAriFR 


I  A  Smai  I.  WoRi.n    . 

II  Seconp  Sight 

III  In  the  Train 

IV  Down  the  River    . 
V  An  Untimely  Visitor 

VI  Voluntary  Service 

VII  AiTER  Michelangelo 

VIII  Finger-Prints 

IX  Fair  Warning 

X  The  Week  of  Their  Lives 

XI  In  Country  and  In  Town 

XII  The  Thousandth  Man 

XIII  Quid  Pro  Quo 

XIV  Faith  Unfaithful 

XV  Tmk  Person  Unknown   . 


1 
16 
29 
42 
64 
83 
98 

117 
134 

146 

156 

169 

181 

205 

214 


<-»  r>  r*  ^-\  >J   /^  4 


THE  THOUSANDTH  WOMAN 


THE  THOUSANDTH 
WOMAN 


A    SMALL    WORLD 

CAZALET  sat  up  so  suddenly  that 
his  head  hit  the  woodwork  over  the 
upper  berth.  His  own  voice  still  rang  in 
his  startled  ears.  He  wondered  how  much 
he  had  said,  and  how  far  it  could  have 
carried  above  the  throb  of  the  liner's 
screws  and  the  mighty  pounding  of  the 
water  against  her  plates.  Then  his  as- 
sembling senses  coupled  the  light  in  the 
cabin  with  his  own  clear  recollection  of 
having  switched  it  off  before  turning  over. 

I 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

And  then  he  remembered  how  he  had 
been  left  behind  at  Naples,  and  rejoined 
the  Kaiser  Frits  at  Genoa,  only  to  find 
that  he  no  longer  had  a  cabin  to  himself. 

A  sniff  assured  Cazalet  that  he  was 
neither  alone  at  the  moment  nor  yet  the 
only  one  awake ;  he  pulled  back  the  sway- 
ing curtain,  which  he  had  taken  to  keep- 
ing drawn  at  night;  and  there  on  the  set- 
tee, with  the  thinnest  of  cigarettes  between 
his  muscular  fingers,  sat  a  man  with  a 
strong  blue  chin  and  the  quizzical  solem- 
nity of  an  animated  sphinx. 

It  was  his  cabin  companion,  an  Amer- 
ican named  Hilton  Toye,  and  Cazalet  ad- 
dressed him  with  nervous  familiarity. 

"I  say!  Have  I  been  talking  in  my 
sleep?" 

"Why,  yes!"  replied  Hilton  Toye,  and 
broke  into  a  smile  that  made  a  human  be- 
ing of  him. 

2 


A    SMALL    WORLD 

Cazalet  forced  a  responsive  grin,  as  he 
reached  for  his  own  cigarettes.  "What 
did  I  say?"  he  asked,  with  an  amused 
curiosity  at  variance  with  his  shaking 
hand  and  shining  forehead. 

Toye  took  him  in  from  crown  to  finger- 
tips, with  something  deep  behind  his 
kindly  smile.  "I  judge,"  said  he,  "you 
were  dreaming  of  some  drama  you've 
been  seeing  ashore,  IMr.  Cazalet." 

"Dreaming!"  said  Cazalet,  wiping  his 
face.  "It  was  a  nightmare !  I  must  have 
turned  in  too  soon  after  dinner.  But  I 
should  like  to  know  what  I  said." 

"I  can  tell  you  word  for  word.  You 
said,  'Henry  Craven — dead !'  and  then  you 
said,  'Dead — dead — Henry  Craven!'  as  if 
you'd  got  to  have  it  both  ways  to  make 


sure." 


"It's  true,"  said  Cazalet,   shuddering. 
"I  saw  him  lying  dead,  in  my  dream." 

3 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

Hilton  Toye  took  a  gold  watch  from 
his  waistcoat  pocket.  "Thirteen  minutes 
to  one  in  the  morning,"  he  said,  "and  now 
it's  September  eighteenth.  Take  a  note  of 
that,  Mr.  Cazalet.  It  may  be  another  case 
of  second  sight  for  your  psychical  re- 
search society." 

"I  don't  care  if  it  is,"  Cazalet  was 
smoking  furiously. 

"Meaning  it  was  no  great  friend  you 
dreamed  was  dead?" 

"No  friend  at  all,  dead  or  alive!" 

"I'm  kind  of  wondering,"  said  Toye, 
winding  his  watch  up  slowly,  "if  he's  by 
way  of  being  a  friend  of  mine.  I  know  a 
Henry  Craven  over  in  England.  Lives 
along  the  river,  down  Kingston  way,  in 
a  big  house." 

"Called  Uplands?" 

"Yes,  sir!  That's  the  man.  Little 
world,  isn't  it  ?" 

4 


A    SMALL    WORLD 

The  man  in  the  upper  herth  had  tn 
hold  on  as  his  curtains  swung  clear;  the 
man  tilted  back  on  the  settee,  all  attention 
all  the  time,  was  more  than  ever  an  ef- 
fective foil  to  him.  Without  the  kindly 
smile  that  went  as  quickly  as  it  came, 
Hilton  Toye  was  somber,  subtle  and 
demure.  Cazalet,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
of  sanguine  complexion  and  impetuous 
looks.  He  was  tanned  a  rich  bronze  about 
the  middle  of  the  face,  but  it  broke  oft* 
across  his  forehead  like  tlie  coloring  of  a 
meerschaum  pipe.  Both  men  were  in  their 
early  prime,  and  each  stood  roughly  for 
his  race  and  type:  the  traveled  American 
who  knows  the  world,  and  the  elemental 
Britisher  who  has  made  some  one  loose 
end  of  it  his  own. 

''T  thought  of  my  Henry  Craven,"  con- 
tinued Toye,  "as  soon  as  ever  you  came 
out  with  yours.    But  it  seemed  a  kind  of 

S 


THE   THOUSANDTH   WOMAN 

ordinary  name.  I  might  have  known  it 
was  the  same  if  I'd  recollected  the  name 
of  his  firm.  Isn't  it  Craven  &  Cazalet,  the 
stockbrokers,  down  in  Tokenhouse 
Yard?" 

"That's  it,"  said  Cazalet  bitterly.  "But 
there  have  been  none  of  us  in  it  since  my 
father  died  ten  years  ago." 

"But  you're  Henry  Craven's  old  part- 
ner's son?" 

"I'm  his  only  son." 

"Then  no  wonder  you  dream  about 
Henry  Craven,"  cried  Toye,  "and  no 
wonder  it  wouldn't  break  your  heart  if 
your  dream  came  true." 

"It  wouldn't,"  said  Cazalet  through 
his  teeth.  "He  wasn't  a  white  man  to  me 
or  mine — whatever  you  may  have  foimd 
him." 

"Oh !  I  don't  claim  to  like  him  a  lot," 
said  Toye. 

6 


A    SMALL    WORLD 

"But  you  seem  tu  know  a  good  deal 
about  him?" 

"I  had  a  httle  place  near  his  one  sum- 
mer. I  know  only  what  I  heard  down 
there." 

"What  did  you  hear?"  asked  Cazalet. 
"I've  been  away  ten  years,  ever  since  the 
crash  that  ruined  everybody  but  the  man 
at  tlie  bottom  of  the  whole  thing.  It 
would  be  a  kindness  to  tell  me  what  you 
heard." 

"Well,  I  guess  you've  said  it  yourself 
right  now.  That  man  seems  to  have  beg- 
gared everybody  all  around  except  him- 
self; that's  how  I  make  it  out,"  said 
Hilton  Toye. 

"He  did  worse,"  said  Cazalet  through 
liis  teeth.  "He  killed  my  poor  father;  he 
banished  me  to  the  wilds  of  Australia ; 
and  he  sent  a  better  man  than  himself  to 
prison  for  fourteen  years!" 

7 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

Toye  opened  his  dark  eyes  for  once. 
"It  that  so?  No.  I  never  heard  that," 
said  he. 

"You  hear  it  now.  He  did  all  that,  in- 
directly, and  I  don't  care  who  hears  me 
say  so.  I  didn't  realize  it  at  the  time.  I 
was  too  young,  and  the  whole  thing  laid 
me  out  too  flat;  but  I  know  it  now,  and 
I've  known  it  long  enough.  It  was  worse 
than  a  crash.  It  was  a  scandal.  That  was 
what  finished  us  off,  all  but  Henry  Cra- 
ven! There'd  been  a  gigantic  swindle — 
special  investments  recommended  by  the 
firm,  bogus  certificates  and  all  the  rest  of 
it.  We  were  all  to  blame,  of  course.  My 
poor  father  ought  never  to  have  been  a 
business  man  at  all;  he  should  have  been 
a  poet.  Even  I — I  was  only  a  youngster 
in  the  office,  but  I  ought  to  have  known 
what  was  going  on.  But  Henry  Craven 
did  know.    He  was  in  it  up  to  the  neck, 

8 


A    SMALL    WORf.D 

thongli  a  fcllmv  called  Scruton  did  the 
actual  job.  Scruton  got  fourteen  years — ■ 
and  Craven  got  our  old  house  on  the 
river! 

"And  feathered  it  pretty  well!"  said 
Toye,  nodding.  "Yes,  I  did  hear  that. 
And  I  can  tell  you  they  don't  think  any 
better  of  him,  in  the  neighborhood,  for 
going  to  live  right  there.  But  how  did  he 
stop  the  other  man's  mouth,  and — how  do 
you  know?" 

"Never  mind  how  I  know,"  said  Caza- 
Ict.  "Scruton  was  a  friend  of  mine, 
though  an  older  man ;  he  was  good  to  me, 
though  he  was  a  wrong  'un  himself.  He 
paid  for  it — paid  for  two — that  I  can 
say !  But  he  was  engaged  to  Ethel  Craven 
at  the  time,  was  going  to  be  taken  into 
partnership  on  their  marriage,  and  you 
can  put  two  and  two  together  for  your- 
self." 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"Did  she  wait  for  him?" 

"About  as  long  as  you'd  expect  of  the 
breed !  She  was  her  father's  daughter.  I 
wonder  you  didn't  come  across  her  and 
her  husband !" 

"I  didn't  see  so  much  of  the  Craven 
crowd,"  rephed  Hilton  Toye.  'T  wasn't 
stuck  on  them  either.  Say,  Cazalet,  I 
wouldn't  be  that  old  man  when  Scruton 
comes  out,  would  you  ?" 

But  Cazalet  showed  that  he  could  hold 
his  tongue  when  he  liked,  and  his  grim 
look  was  not  so  legible  as  some  that  had 
come  and  gone  before.  This  one  stuck 
until  Toye  produced  a  big  flask  from  his 
grip,  and  the  talk  shifted  to  less  painful 
ground.  It  was  the  last  night  in  the  Bay 
of  Biscay,  and  Cazalet  told  how  he  had 
been  in  it  a  fortnight  on  his  way  out  by 
sailing-vessel.  He  even  told  it  with  con- 
sideraljle  humor,  and  hit  off  sundry  pas- 

lO 


A    SMALL    WORLD 

sengcrs  of  ten  years  ago  as  though  they 
had  been  aboard  the  German  boat  that 
night;  for  he  had  gifts  of  anecdote  and 
verbal  portraiture,  and  in  their  unpre- 
meditated cups  Toye  drew  him  out  about 
tlie  bush  until  the  shadows  passed  for 
minutes  from  the  red-brick  face  with  the 
white-brick  forehead. 

"I  remember  thinking  I  would  dig  for 
gold,"  said  Cazalet.  'That's  all  I  knew 
about  Australia;  that  and  bushrangers 
and  dust-storms  and  bush-fires!  But  you 
can  have  adventures  of  sorts  if  you  go  far 
enough  up-country  for  'em ;  it  still  pays 
you  to  know  how  to  use  your  fists  out 
there.  I  didn't,  but  I  was  picking  it  up 
before  I'd  been  out  three  months,  and  in 
six  I  was  as  ready  as  anybody  to  take  off 
my  coat.  I  remember  once  at  a  bush 
shanty  they  dished  up  such  fruity  chops 
that  I  said  I'd  fight  the  cook  if  they'd  send 

II 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

him  up;  and  I'm  blowed  if  it  wasn't  a  fel- 
low I'd  been  at  school  with  and  worshiped 
as  no  end  of  a  swell  at  games!  Potts  his 
name  was,  old  Venus  Potts,  the  best  look- 
ing chap  in  the  school  among  other  things ; 
and  there  he  was,  cooking  carrion  at 
twenty-five  bob  a  week !  Instead  of  fight- 
ing we  joined  forces,  got  a  burr-cutting 
job  on  a  good  station,  then  a  better  one 
over  shearing,  and  after  that  I  wormed 
my  way  in  as  bookkeeper,  and  my  pal  be- 
came one  of  the  head  overseers.  Now 
we're  our  own  bosses  with  a  share  in  the 
show,  and  the  owner  comes  up  only  once 
a  year  to  see  how  things  are  looking." 

*T  hope  he  had  a  daughter,"  said  Toye, 
"and  that  you're  going  to  marry  her,  if 
you  haven't  yet?" 

Cazalet  laughed,  but  the  shadow  had  re- 
turned. *'No.  I  left  that  to  my  pal,"  he 
said.    "He  did  that  all  right!" 

I'j. 


A  saiat;[,  world 

"Then  I  advise  you  to  go  and  do  like- 
wise," rejoined  his  new  friend  with  a 
geniah'ty  impossible  to  take  amiss.  "I 
shouldn't  wonder,  now,  if  there's  sonic 
girl  you  left  behind  you." 

Cazalet  shook  h.is  head.  "None  who 
would  look  on  herself  in  that  light,"  he 
interrupted.  It  was  all  he  said,  but  once 
more  Toye  was  regarding  him  as 
shrewdly  as  when  the  night  was  younger, 
and  the  littleness  of  the  world  had  not  yet 
made  them  confidant  and  boon  companion. 

Eight  bells  actually  struck  before  their 
great  talk  ended  and  Cazalet  swore  that 
he  missed  the  "watches  aft,  sir!"  of  the 
sailing-vessel  ten  years  before;  and  re- 
called how  they  had  never  changed  watch 
without  putting  the  ship  about,  his  last 
time  in  the  bay. 

"Say!"  exclaimed  Hilton  Toye,  knit- 
ting his  brows  over  some  nebulous  recol- 

L> 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

lection  of  his  own.  "I  seem  to  have  heard 
of  you  and  some  of  your  yarns  before. 
Didn't  you  spend  nights  in  a  log-hut  miles 
and  miles  from  any  other  human  being?" 

It  was  as  they  were  turning  in  at  last, 
but  the  question  spoiled  a  yawn  for 
Cazalet. 

"Sometimes,  at  one  of  our  out-sta- 
tions," said  he,  looking  puzzled. 

'T've  seen  your  photograph,"  said 
Toye,  regarding  him  with  a  more  critical 
stare.   "But  it  was  with  a  beard." 

"I  had  it  off  when  I  was  ashore  the 
other  day,"  said  Cazalet.  "I  always  meant 
to,  before  the  end  of  the  voyage." 

"I  see.  It  was  a  Miss  Macnair  showed 
me  that  photograph — Miss  Blanche  Mac- 
nair lives  in  a  little  house  down  there  near 
your  old  home.  I  judge  hers  is  another 
old  home  that's  been  broken  up  since  your 
day." 

14 


A    SMALL    WORLD 

"They've  all  got  married,"  said  Cazalet. 

"Except  Miss  Blanche.  You  write  to 
her  some,  Mr.  Cazalet?" 

"Once  a  year— regularly.  It  was  a 
promise.  We  were  kids  together,"  he  ex- 
plained, as  lie  climbed  back  into  the  upper 
berth. 

"Guess  you  were  a  lucky  kid,"  said  the 
voice  below.  "She's  one  in  a  thousand, 
Miss  Blanche  Macnair!" 


II 


SECOND   SIGHT 


SOUTHAMPTON  WATER  was  an 
ornamental  lake  dotted  with  fairy 
lamps.  The  stars  above  seemed  only  a 
far-away  reflex  of  those  below;  but  in 
their  turn  they  shimmered  on  the  sleek 
silken  arm  of  sleeping  sea.  It  was  a  mid- 
summer night,  lagging  a  whole  season  be- 
hind its  fellows.  But  already  it  was  so 
late  that  the  English  passengers  on  the 
Kaiser  Frit:;  had  abandoned  all  thought 
of  catching  the  last  train  up  to  London. 

They  tramped  the  deck  in  their  noisy, 
shiny,  shore-going  boots;  they  manned 
the  rail  in  lazy  inarticulate  appreciation 
of  the  nocturne  in  blue  stippled  with 
green  and  red  and  countless  yellow  lights. 

i6 


SFXOXD    SIGHT 

Some  delivered  themselves  of  the  patri- 
otic platitudes  which  become  the  homing 
tourist  who  has  seen  no  foreign  land  to 
touch  his  own.  But  one  who  had  seen 
more  than  sights  and  cities,  one  wlio  had 
been  ten  years  buried  in  the  bush,  one 
with  such  yarns  to  spin  behind  those  out- 
post lights  of  England,  was  not  even  on 
deck  to  hail  them  back  into  his  ken. 
Achilles  in  his  tent  was  no  more  conspicu- 
ous absentee  than  Cazalct  in  his  cabin  as 
the  Kaiser  Fritz  steamed  sedately  up 
Southampton  \\''ater. 

He  had  finished  packing ;  the  stateroom 
floor  was  impassable  with  the  baggage 
that  Cazalet  had  wanted  on  the  five-weeks' 
voyage.  There  was  scarcely  room  to  sit 
down,  but  in  what  there  was  sat  Cazalet 
like  a  soul  in  torment.  All  the  vultures 
of  the  night  before,  of  his  dreadful  tlreani. 
and    of    the    poignant    reminiscences    to 

i7 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

which  his  dream  had  led,  might  have  been 
gnawing  at  his  vitals  as  he  sat  there  wait- 
ing to  set  foot  once  more  in  the  land  from 
which  a  bitter  blow  had  driven  him. 

Yet  the  bitterness  might  have  been  al- 
layed by  the  consciousness  that  he,  at  any 
rate,  had  turned  it  to  account.  It  had 
been,  indeed,  the  making  of  him ;  thanks 
to  that  stern  incentive,  even  some  of  the 
sweets  of  a  deserved  success  were  al- 
ready his.  But  there  was  no  hint  of  com- 
placency in  Cazalet's  clouded  face  and 
heavy  attitude.  He  looked  as  if  he  had 
not  slept,  after  all,  since  his  nightmare; 
almost  as  if  he  could  not  trust  himself 
to  sleep  again.  His  face  was  pale,  even 
in  that  torrid  zone  between  the  latitudes 
protected  in  the  bush  by  beard  and  wide- 
awake. And  he  jumped  to  his  feet  as  sud- 
denly as  the  screw  stopped  for  the  first 

i8 


SECOND    SIGHT 

time;  but  that  might  have  been  just  the 
curious  shock  whicli  its  cessation  always 
causes  after  days  at  sea.  Only  the  same 
thing  happened  ag:'.in  and  yet  again,  as 
often  as  ever  the  engines  paused  before 
the  end.  Cazalet  would  spring  up  and 
watch  his  stateroom  door  with  clenched 
fists  and  haunted  eyes.  But  it  was  some 
long  time  before  the  door  flew  open,  and 
then  slammed  behind  Hilton  Toye. 

Toye  was  in  a  state  of  excitement  even 
more  abnormal  than  Cazalet's  nervous  de- 
spondency, which  indeed  it  prevented  him 
from  observing.  It  was  instantaneously' 
clear  that  Toye  was  astounded,  tliiillcd, 
almost  triumphant,  but  as  yet  just  draw- 
ing the  line  at  that.  A  newspaper  flut- 
tered in  his  hand. 

"Second     sight?"     he     ejaculated,     as 
though  it  were  the  night  before  and  Caza- 

19 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

let  still  shaken  by  his  dream.  "I  guess 
you've  got  it  in  full  measure,  pressed 
down  and  running  over,  Mr.  Cazalet!" 

It  was  a  sorry  sample  of  his  talk.  Hil- 
ton Toye  did  not  usually  mix  the  ready 
metaphors  that  nevertheless  had  to  satisfy 
an  inner  censor,  of  some  austerity,  before 
they  were  allowed  to  leave  those  deliber- 
ate lips.  As  a  rule  there  was  dignity  in 
that  deliberation;  it  never  for  a  moment, 
or  for  any  ordinary  moment,  suggested 
want  of  confidence,  for  example.  It  could 
even  dignify  some  outworn  modes  of 
transatlantic  speech  which  still  preserved 
a  perpetual  freshness  in  the  mouth  of  Hil- 
ton Toye.  A'^et  now,  in  his  strange  ex- 
citement, word  and  tone  alike  were  on  the 
level  of  the  stage  American's.  It  was 
not  less  than  extraordinary. 

"You  don't  mean  about — "  Cazalet 
seemed  to  be  swallowing. 

"I  do,  sir!"  cried  Hilton  Toye. 

20  V 


SliCOXD    SfGlIT 

" — about  Henry  Craven  ?" 

"Sure." 

"Has — something  or  other — happened 
to  him?" 

"Yep." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  he's — dead?" 

"Last  ^\'ednesday  niglit !"  Toye  looked 
at  his  paper.  "No,  I  guess  I'm  wrong. 
Seems  it  liappened  Wednesday,  but  lie 
only  passed  away  Sunday  morning." 

Cazalet  still  sat  staring  at  him — there 
was  not  room  for  two  of  them  on  their 
feet — but  into  his  heavy  stare  there  came 
a  gleam  of  leaden  wisdom.  "This  was 
Thursday  morning."  he  said,  "so  I  didn't 
dream  of  it  when  it  happened,  after  all." 

"You  dreamed  you  saw  him  lying  dead, 
and  so  he  was."  said  Toye.  "The  fu- 
neral's been  to-day.  T  don't  know,  but 
that  seems  to  me  just  about  the  next  near- 
est thing  to  seeing  tlie  crime  perpetrated 
in  a  vision." 

21 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"Crime!"  cried  Cazalet.  "What 
crime  ? 

"Murder,  sir!"  said  Hilton  Toye. 
"Wilful,  brutal,  bloody  murder!  Here's 
the  paper;  better  read  it  for  yourself.  I'm 
glad  he  wasn't  a  friend  of  yours,  or  mine 
either,  but  it's  a  bad  end  even  for  your 
worst  enemy." 

The  paper  fluttered  in  Cazalet's  clutch 
as  it  had  done  in  Toye's ;  but  that  was  as 
natural  as  his  puzzled  frown  over  the 
cryptic  allusions  of  a  journal  that  had 
dealt  fully  with  the  ascertainable  facts 
in  previous  issues.  Some  few  emerged  be- 
tween the  lines.  Henry  Craven  had  re- 
ceived his  fatal  injuries  on  the  Wednes- 
day of  the  previous  week.  The  thing  had 
happened  in  his  library,  at  or  about  half 
past  seven  in  the  evening;  but  how  a 
crime,  which  was  apparently  a  profound 
mystery,  had  been  timed  to  within  a  min- 

22 


SECOND    SIGHT 

lite  of  its  commission  did  not  appear 
among  the  latest  particulars.  No  arrest 
had  hecn  made.  No  cine  was  mentioned, 
beyond  the  statement  that  the  police  were 
still  searching  for  a  definite  instrument 
with  which  it  was  evidently  assumed  that 
the  deed  had  been  committed.  There  was 
in  fact  a  close  description  of  an  unusual 
weapon,  a  special  constable's  very  special 
truncheon.  It  had  hung  as  a  cherished 
trophy  on  the  library  wall,  from  wliich  it 
was  missing,  while  the  very  imprint  of  a 
silver  shield,  mounted  on  the  thick  end 
of  the  weapon,  was  stated  to  liave  been 
discovered  on  the  scalp  of  the  fractured 
skull.  But  that  was  a  little  bit  of  special 
reporting,  typical  of  the  enterprising  sheet 
that  Toye  had  procured.  The  inquest, 
merely  opened  on  the  Monday,  had  been 
adjourned  to  the  day  of  issue. 

"We  must  get  hold  of  an  evening  pa- 

23 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

per,"  said  Cazalet.  "Fancy  his  own  fa- 
mous truncheon !  He  had  it  mounted  and 
inscribed  himself,  so  that  it  shouldn't  be 
forgotten  how  he'd  fought  for  law  and 
order  at  Trafalgar  Square!  That  was  the 
man  all  over!" 

His  voice  and  manner  achieved  the  ex- 
cessive indifference  which  the  English 
type  holds  due  from  itself  after  any  ex- 
cess of  feeling.  Toye  also^  was  himself 
again,  his  alert  mind  working  keenly  yet 
darkly  in  his  acute  eyes. 

*T  wonder  if  it  was  a  murder?"  he 
speculated.  "I  bet  it  wasn't  a  deliberate 
murder." 

"What  else  could  it  have  been?" 

"Kind  of  manslaughter.  Deliberate 
murderers  don't  trust  to  chance  weapons 
hanging  on  their  victims'  walls." 

"You  forget,"  said  Cazalet,  "that  he 
was  robbed  as  well." 

24 


SIXOND    SIGHT 

"Do  they  claim  that?"  said  Hilton 
Toye.  "I  guess  I  skipped  some.  Where 
does  it  say  anything  about  his  being 
robbed?" 

"Here!"  Cazalet  had  scanned  the  pa- 
per eagerly ;  his  finger  drummed  upon  the 
place.  "  The  police,'  "  he  read  out,  in 
some  sort  of  triumph,  "  'have  now  been 
furnished  with  a  full  description  of  the 
missing  watch  and  trinkets  and  the  other 
articles  believed  to  have  been  taken  from 
the  pockets  of  the  deceased.'  What's  that 
but  robbery  ?" 

"You're  dead  right,"  said  Toye.  "I 
missed  that  somehow.  Yet  who  in  thun- 
der tracks  a  man  down  to  rob  and  mur- 
der him  in  his  own  home?  But  when 
you've  brained  a  man,  because  you 
couldn't  keep  your  hands  off  him,  you 
might  deliberately  do  all  the  rest  to  make 
it  seem  like  the  work  of  thieves." 

25 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

Hilton  Toye  looked  a  judge  of  delibera- 
tion as  he  measured  his  irrefutable  words. 
He  looked  something  more.  Cazalet  could 
not  tear  his  blue  eyes  from  the  penetrat- 
ing pair  that  met  them  with  a  somber 
twinkle,  an  enlightened  gusto,  quite  un- 
comfortably suggestive  at  such  a  moment. 

"You  aren't  a  detective,  by  any  chance, 
are  you?"  cried  Cazalet,  with  rather 
clumsy  humor. 

"No,  sir!  But  I've  often  thought  I 
wouldn't  mind  being  one,"  said  Toye, 
chuckling.  'T  rather  figure  I  might  do 
something  at  it.  If  things  don't  go  my 
way  in  your  old  country,  and  they  put  up 
a  big  enough  reward,  why,  here's  a  man 
I  knew  and  a  place  I  know,  and  I  might 
have  a  mind  to  try  my  hand." 

They  went  ashore  together,  and  to  the 
same  hotel  at  Southampton  for  the  night. 
Perhaps   neither   could   have   said    from 

26 


SECOND    SIGHT 

which  side  the  initiative  came ;  but  mid- 
night found  tlie  chance  pair  with  their 
legs  under  the  same  heavy  \''ictorian  ma- 
hogany, devouring  cold  beef,  ham  and 
pickles  as  phlegmatically  as  commercial 
travelers  who  had  never  been  off  the 
island  in  llicir  lives.  Yet  surely  Cazalet 
was  less  depressed  than  he  had  been  be- 
fore landing;  the  old  English  ale  in  a 
pewter  tankard  even  elicited  a  few  of 
those  anecdotes  and  piquant  comparisons 
in  which  his  conversation  w'as  at  its  best. 
It  was  at  its  worst  on  general  questions, 
or  on  concrete  topics  not  introduced  by 
himself;  and  into  this  category,  perhaps 
not  unnaturally,  fell  such  further  par- 
ticulars of  the  Thames  Valley  mystery  as 
were  to  be  found  in  an  evening  paper  at 
the  inn.  They  included  a  fragmentary  re- 
port of  the  adjourned  inquest,  and  the 
actual  offer  of  such  a  reward,  by  the  dead 

27 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

man's  firm,  for  the  apprehension  of  his 
murderer,  as  made  Toye's  eyes  glisten  in 
his  sagacious  head. 

But  Cazalet,  though  he  had  skimmed 
the  many-headed  column  before  sitting 
down  to  supper,  flatly  declined  to  discuss 
the  tragedy  his  first  night  ashore. 


Ill 


IN   THE   TRAIN 


DISCUSSION  was  inevitable  on  the 
way  up  to  town  next  morning. 

The  silly  season  was  by  no  means  over ; 
a  sensational  inquest  was  worth  every 
inch  that  it  could  fill  in  most  of  the  morn- 
ing papers;  and  the  two  strange  friends, 
planted  opposite  each  other  in  the  first- 
class  smoker,  traveled  inland  simultane- 
ously engrossed  in  a  copious  report  of  the 
previous  day's  proceedings  at  the  coro- 
ner's court. 

Of  solid  and  significant  fact,  they 
learned  comparatively  little  that  they  had 
been  unable  to  gather  or  deduce  the  night 
before.   There  was  the  medical  evidence, 

29 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

valuable  only  as  tracing  the  fatal  blow  to 
some  such  weapon  as  the  missing  trun- 
cheon; there  was  the  butler's  evidence, 
finally  timing  the  commission  of  the  deed 
to  within  ten  minutes ;  there  was  the  head 
gardener's  evidence,  confirming  and  sup- 
plementing that  of  the  butler;  and  there 
was  the  evidence  of  a  footman  who  had 
answered  the  telephone  an  hour  or  two 
before  the  tragedy  occurred. 

The  butler  had  explained  that  the  din- 
ner-hour was  seven  thirty;  that,  not  five 
minutes  before,  he  had  seen  his  master 
come  down-stairs  and  enter  the  library, 
where,  at  seven  fifty-five,  on  going  to  ask 
if  he  had  heard  the  gong,  he  had  obtained 
no  answer  but  found  the  door  locked  on 
the  inside;  that  he  had  then  hastened 
round  by  the  garden,  and  in  through  the 
French  window,  to  discover  the  deceased 
gentleman  lying  in  his  blood. 

30 


IN    THE   TRAIN 

Tlie  head  gardener,  who  Hved  in  the 
lodge,  had  sworn  to  having  seen  a  bare- 
lieadcd  man  rush  past  his  windows  and 
out  of  tlie  gates  about  the  same  hour,  as 
he  knew  l)y  the  sounding  of  the  gong  up 
at  the  house;  tlicy  often  heard  it  at  the 
lodge,  in  warm  weather  when  the  win- 
dows were  open,  and  the  gardener  swore 
that  he  himself  had  heard  it  on  this  oc- 
casion. 

The  footman  appeared  to  have  been  less 
positive  as  to  the  time  of  the  telephone 
call,  thought  it  was  between  four  and 
five,  but  remembered  the  conversation 
very  well.  The  gentleman  had  asked 
whether  Mr.  Craven  was  at  home,  had 
been  told  that  he  was  out  motoring,  asked 
when  he  would  be  back,  told  he  couldn't 
say,  but  before  dinner  some  time,  and 
what  name  should  he  give,  whereupon 
the  gentleman  had  rung  off  without  an- 

31 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

swering.  The  footman  thought  he  was  a 
gentleman,  from  the  way  he  spoke.  But 
apparently  the  police  had  not  yet  suc- 
ceeded in  tracing  the  call. 

"Is  it  a  difficult  thing  to  do?"  asked 
Cazalet,  touching  on  this  last  point  early 
in  the  discussion,  which  even  he  showed 
no  wish  to  avoid  this  morning.  He  had 
dropped  his  paper,  to  find  that  Toye  had 
already  dropped  his,  and  was  gazing  at 
the  flying  English  fields  with  thoughtful 
puckers  about  his  somber  eyes. 

*Tf  you  ask  me,"  he  replied,  "I  should 
like  to  know  what  wasn't  difficult  con- 
nected with  the  telephone  system  in  this 
country!  Why,  you  don't  have  a  system, 
and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  But  it's  not  at 
that  end  they'll  put  the  salt  on  their  man." 

"Which  end  will  it  be,  then?" 

"The  river  end.  That  hat,  or  cap.  Do 
you  see  what  the  gardener  says  about  the 

32 


IN    Till':    TRAIN 

man  who  ran  out  bareheaded?  That  gar- 
dener deserves  to  be  cashiered  for  not 
getting  a  move  on  him  in  time  to  catch 
that  man,  even  if  he  did  think  he'd  only 
been  swiping  flowers.  But  if  he  went  and 
left  his  hat  or  his  cap  behind  him,  that 
should  be  good  enough  in  the  long  run. 
It's  the  very  worst  thing  you  can  leave. 
Ever  hear  of  Franz  Miiller?" 

Cazalet  had  not  heard  of  that  immortal 
notoriety,  nor  did  his  ignorance  appear  to 
trouble  him  at  all,  but  it  was  becoming 
more  and  more  clear  that  Hilton  Toye 
took  an  almost  unhealthy  interest  in  the 
theory  and  practise  of  violent  crime. 

"Franz  Miiller,"  he  continued,  "left  his 
hat  behind  him,  only  that  and  nothing 
more,  but  it  brought  him  to  the  gallows 
even  though  he  got  over  to  the  other  side 
first.  He  made  the  mistake  of  taking  a 
slow  steamer,  and  that's  just  about  the  one 

33 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

mistake  they  never  did  make  at  Scotland 
Yard.  Give  them  a  nice,  long,  plain-sail- 
ing stern-chase  and  they  get  there  by  bed- 
time— wireless  or  no  wireless !" 

But  Cazalet  was  in  no  mind  to  discuss 
other  crimes,  old  or  new ;  and  he  closed 
the  digression  by  asserting  somewhat 
roundly  that  neither  hat  nor  cap  had  been 
left  behind  in  the  only  case  that  interested 
him. 

"Don't  be  too  sure,"  said  Toye.  "Even 
Scotland  Yard  doesn't  show  all  its  hand 
at  once,  in  the  first  inquiry  that  comes 
along.  They  don't  give  out  any  descrip- 
tion of  the  man  that  ran  away,  but  you 
bet  it's  being  circulated  around  every  po- 
lice office  in  the  United  Kingdom." 

Cazalet  said  they  would  give  it  out  fast 
enough  if  they  had  it  to  give.  By  the  way, 
he  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  head 
gardener  was  the  same  who  had  been  at 

34 


IN    THE   TRAIN 

Uplands  in  liis  father's  time;  lie  must  be 
getting  an  old  man,  and  no  doubt  shakier 
on  points  of  detail  than  he  would  be  likely 
to  admit.  Cazalct  instanced  the  alleged 
hearing  of  the  gong  as  in  itself  an  uncon- 
vincing statement.  It  was  well  over  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  gates  to  the 
house,  and  there  were  no  windows  to  open 
in  the  hall  where  the  gong  would  be  rung. 

He  sighed  heavily  as  in  his  turn  he 
looked  out  at  the  luxuriant  little  paddocks 
and  the  old  tiled  homesteads  after  every 
two  or  three.  But  he  was  not  thinking  of 
the  weather-board  and  corrugated  iron 
strewn  so  sparsely  over  the  yellow  wilds 
that  he  had  left  behind  him.  The  old  Eng- 
lish panorama  flew  by  for  granted,  as  he 
had  taken  it  before  ever  he  went  out  to 
Australia.  It  was  as  though  he  had  never 
been  out  at  all. 

"I've  dreamed  of  the  old  spot  so  often," 

35 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

he  said  at  length.  "I'm  not  thinking  of 
the  night  before  last — I  meant  in  the  bush 
— and  now  to  think  of  a  thing  like  this 
happening,  there,  in  the  old  governor's 
den,  of  all  places !" 

"Seems  like  a  kind  of  poetic  justice," 
said  Hilton  Toye. 

"It  does.  It  is !"  cried  Cazalet,  fetching 
moist  yet  fiery  eyes  in  from  the  fields.  "I 
said  to  you  tlie  other  night  that  Henry 
Craven  never  was  a  white  man,  and  I 
won't  unsay  it  now.  Nobody  may  ever 
know  what  he's  done  to  bring  this  upon 
him.  But  those  who  really  knew  the  man, 
and  suffered  for  it,  can  guess  the  kind  of 
thing!" 

"Exactly,"  murmured  Toye,  as  though 
he  had  just  said  as  much  himself.  His 
dark  eyes  twinkled  with  deliberation  and 
debate.  "How  long  is  it,  by  the  way,  that 
they  gave  that  clerk  and  friend  of  yours?" 

36 


IX    THE    TRAIN 

A  keen  look  pressed  the  startling  ques- 
tion ;  at  least,  it  startled  Cazalet. 

"You  mean  Scruton?  \Vliat  on  earth 
made  you  tliink  of  him?" 

"Talking  of  those  who  suffered  for  he- 
ing  the  dead  man's  friends,  I  guess,"  said 
Toye.  "Was  it  fourteen  years?" 

"That  was  it." 

"But  I  guess  fourteen  doesn't  mean 
fourteen,  ordinarily,  if  a  prisoner  behaves 
himself?" 

"No,  I  believe  not.  In  fact,  it  doesn't." 

"Do  you  know  how  much  it  would 
mean  ?" 

"A  little  more  than  ten." 

"Then  Scruton  may  be  out  now  ?" 

"Just." 

To3'e  nodded  with  detestable  aplomb. 
"That  gives  you  something  to  chew  on," 
said  he.   "Of  course,  I  don't  say  he's  our 


man — " 


Z7 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"I  should  think  you  didn't !"  cried  Caza- 
let,  white  to  the  hps  with  sudden  fury. 

Toye  looked  disconcerted  and  dis- 
tressed, but  at  the  same  time  frankly  puz- 
zled. He  apologized  none  the  less  readily, 
with  almost  ingenious  courtesy  and  ful- 
ness, but  he  ended  by  explaining  himself 
in  a  single  sentence,  and  that  told  more 
than  the  rest  of  his  straightforward  elo- 
quence put  together. 

"H  a  man  had  done  you  down  like  that, 
wouldn't  you  want  to  kill  him  the  very 
moment  you  came  out,  Cazalet?" 

The  creature  of  impulse  was  off  at  a 
tangent.  'T'd  forgive  him  if  he  did  it, 
too!"  he  exclaimed.  "I'd  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  save  him,  guilty  or  not 
guilty.   Wouldn't  you  in  my  place?" 

'T  don't  know,"  said  Hilton  Toye. 
"It  depends  on  the  place  you're  in,   I 

38 


IN    THE   TRAIN 

guess!"    And  the  keen  dark  eyes  came 
drilling  into  Cazalet's  sknll  like  augers. 

"I  thought  I  told  you?"  he  explained 
impatiently.  "We  were  in  the  office  to- 
gether; he  was  good  to  me,  winked  at  the 
business  hours  I  was  inclined  to  keep,  let 
me  down  lighter  in  every  way  than  I  de- 
served. You  may  say  it  was  part  of  his 
game.  But  I  take  people  as  I  find  them. 
And  then,  as  I  told  you,  Scruton  was  ten 
thousand  times  more  sinned  against  than 


smning. 


'■is'- 


"Are  you  sure?  If  you  knew  it  at  the 
time—" 

"I  didn't.    I  told  you  so  the  last  night." 

"Then  it  came  to  you  in  Australia?" 
said  Toye,  with  a  smile  as  whimsical  as 
the  suggestion. 

"It  did!"  cried  Cazalet  unexpectedly. 
"In  a  letter,"  he  added  with  hesitation. 

39 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"Well,  I  mustn't  ask  questions,"  said 
Hilton  Toye,  and  began  folding  up  his 
newspaper  with  even  more  than  his  usual 
deliberation. 

"Oh,  I'll  tell  you!"  cried  Cazalet  un- 
graciously. "It's  my  own  fault  for  telling 
you  so  much.  It  was  in  a  letter  from  Scru- 
ton  himself  that  I  heard  the  whole  thing. 
I'd  written  to  him — toward  the  end — sug- 
gesting things.  He  managed  to  get  an  an- 
swer through  that  would  never  have 
passed  the  prison  authorities.  And — and 
that's  why  I  came  home  just  when  I  did," 
concluded  Cazalet;  "that's  why  I  didn't 
wait  till  after  shearing.  He's  been 
through  about  enough,  and  I've  had  more 
luck  than  I  deserved.  I  meant  to  take  him 
back  with  me,  to  keep  the  books  on  our 
station,  if  you  want  to  know!"  The 
brusk  voice  trembled. 

Toye  let  his  newspaper  slide  to  the 
40 


IN    Till'    'JRAIN 

flour.  "But  that  was  fine!"  he  exclaimed 
simply.  "That's  as  fine  an  action  as  I've 
heard  of  in  a  long  time." 

"If  it  comes  off,"  said  Cazalet  in  a 
gloomy  voice. 

"Don't  you  worry.  It'll  come  off.  Is  he 
out  yet,  for  sure?  I  mean,  do  you  know 
that  he  is?" 

"Scruton?  Yes — since  you  press  it — he 
wrote  to  tell  me  that  he  was  coming  out 
even  suoner  than  he  expected." 

"Then  he  can  stop  out  for  me,"  said 
Hilton  Toye.  "I  guess  I'm  not  running 
for  that  reward !" 


IV 


DOWN   THE   RIVER 


At  Waterloo  the  two  men  parted, 
Ji  V-With  a  fair  exchange  of  fitting 
speeches,  none  of  which  rang  really  false. 
And  yet  Cazalet  found  himself  emphati- 
cally unable  to  make  any  plans  at  all  for 
the  next  few  days ;  also,  he  seemed  in  two 
minds  now  about  a  Jermyn  Street  hotel 
previously  mentioned  as  his  immediate 
destination;  and  his  step  was  indubitably 
lighter  as  he  went  off  first  of  all  to  the 
loop-line,  to  make  sure  of  some  train  or 
other  that  he  might  have  to  take  before 
the  day  was  out. 

In  the  event  he  did  not  take  that  train 
or  any  other;  for  the  new  miracle  of  the 

42 


DOWN    THE   RIVER 

new  traffic,  the  new  smell  of  the  horseless 
streets,  and  the  newer  joys  of  the  new- 
est of  new  taxicabs,  all  worked  together 
and  so  swiftly  upon  Cazalet's  organism 
that  he  had  a  little  colloquy  with  his  smart 
young  driver  instead  of  paying  him  in 
Jermyn  Street.  He  nearly  did  pay  him 
off,  and  with  something  more  than  his 
usual  impetuosity,  as  either  a  liar  or  a  fool 
with  no  sense  of  time  or  space. 

"But  that's  as  quick  as  the  train,  my 
good  fellow  !"  blustered  Cazalet. 

"Quicker,"  said  the  smart  young  fellow 
without  dipping  his  cigarette,  "if  you  were 
going  by  the  old  Southwestern !" 

The  very  man,  and  especially  the  man- 
ners that  made  or  marred  him,  was  en- 
tirely new  to  Cazalet  as  a  product  of  tlie 
old  country.  But  he  had  come  from  tlie 
bush,  and  he  felt  as  though  he  might  have 
been  back  there  but  for  the  smell  of  petrol 

43 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

and  the  cry  of  the  motor-horn  from  end 
to  end  of  those  teeming  gullies  of  bricks 
and  mortar. 

He  had  accompanied  his  baggage  just 
as  far  as  the  bureau  of  the  Jermyn  Street 
hotel.  Any  room  they  liked,  and  he  would 
be  back  some  time  before  midnight;  that 
was  his  card,  they  could  enter  his  name 
for  themselves.  He  departed,  pipe  in 
mouth,  open  knife  in  one  hand,  plug  to- 
bacco in  the  other;  and  remarks  were 
passed  In  Jermyn  Street  as  the  taxi 
bounced  out  west  in  ballast. 

But  indeed  it  was  too  fine  a  morning 
to  waste  another  minute  indoors,  even 
to  change  one's  clothes,  if  Cazalet  had 
possessed  any  better  tlian  the  ones  he 
wore  and  did  not  rather  glory  in  his  rude 
attire.  He  was  not  wearing  leggings,  and 
he  did  wear  a  collar,  but  he  quite  saw  that 
even  so  he  might  have  cut  an  ignominious 

44 


DOWN    T?IE    RIVER 

figure  on  the  flags  of  Kensington  Gore; 
no,  now  it  was  the  crowded  High  Street, 
and  now  it  was  humble  Hammersmith. 
He  had  told  his  smart  young  man  to  be 
sure  and  go  that  way.  He  had  been  at  St. 
Paul's  school  as  a  boy — with  old  Venus 
Potts — and  he  w^anted  to  see  as  many 
landmarks  as  he  could.  This  one  towered 
and  was  gone  as  nearly  in  a  fla.sh  as  a 
great  red  mountain  could.  It  seemed  to 
Cazalet,  but  perhaps  he  expected  it  to 
seem,  that  the  red  was  a  little  mellower, 
the  ivy  a  good  deal  higher  on  the  great 
warm  walls.  He  noted  the  time  by  the 
ruthless  old  clock.  It  was  after  one  al- 
ready; he  would  miss  his  lunch.  What 
did  that  matter? 

Lunch  ? 

Drunken  men  do  not  miss  their  meals, 
and  Cazalet  was  simply  and  comfortably 
drunk  with  the  delight  of  being  back.  He 

.45 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

had  never  dreamed  of  its  getting  into  his 
head  like  this ;  at  the  time  he  did  not  real- 
ize that  it  had.  That  was  the  beauty  of  his 
bout.  He  knew  well  enough  what  he  was 
doing  and  seeing,  but  inwardly  he  was 
literally  blind.  Yesterday  was  left  be- 
hind and  forgotten  like  the  Albert  Mem- 
orial, and  to-morrow  was  still  as  distant 
as  the  sea,  if  there  were  such  things  as  to- 
morrow and  the  sea. 

1 

Meanwhile  what  vivid  miles  of  dazzling 
life,  what  a  subtle  autumn  flavor  in  the 
air;  how  cool  in  the  shadows,  how  warm 
in  the  sun ;  what  a  sparkling  old  river  it 
was,  to  be  sure;  and  yet,  if  those  weren't 
the  first  of  the  autumn  tints  on  the  trees 
in  Castlenau. 

There  went  a  funeral,  on  its  way  to 
Mortlake!  The  taxi  overhauled  it  at  a 
callous  speed.  Cazalet  just  had  time  to 
tear  off  his  great  soft  hat.  It  was  actually 
I  46 


DOWN    THE   RIVER 

the  first  funeral  lie  had  seen  since  his  own 
father's;  no  wonder  his  radiance  suffered 
a  brief  eclipse.  But  in  another  moment  he 
was  out  on  Barnes'  Common.  Then,  in 
the  Lower  Richmond  Road,  the  smart 
young  man  began  to  change  speed  and 
crawl,  and  at  once  there  was  something 
fresh  to  think  about.  The  Venture  and 
its  team  of  gra\s,  Oxford  and  London, 
was  trying  to  pass  a  motor-bus  just  ahead, 
and  a  gray  leader  was  behaving  as  though 
it  also  had  just  landed  from  the  bush. 
Cazalet  thought  of  a  sailing-ship  and  a 
dreadnought,  and  the  sniling-ship  thrown 
up  into  the  wind.  Then  he  wondered  how 
one  of  Cobb's  bush  coaches  would  liave 
behaved,  and  thought  it  might  have  played 
the  barge ! 

It  had  been  the  bicycle  age  when  he 
went  away ;  now  it  was  the  motor  age,  and 
the  novelty  and  contrast  were  endless  to 

47 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

a  simple  mind  under  the  influence  of  for- 
gotten yet  increasingly  familiar  scenes. 
But  nothing  was  lost  on  Cazalet  that  great 
morning;  even  a  milk-float  entranced  him, 
itself  enchanted,  with  its  tall  can  turned 
to  gold  and  silver  in  the  sun.  But  now  he 
was  on  all  but  holy  ground.  It  was  not 
so  holy  with  these  infernal  electric  trams ; 
still  he  knew  every  inch  of  it;  and  now, 
thank  goodness,  he  was  ofl:  the  lines  at 
last. 

"Slower!"  he  shouted  to  his  smart 
young  man.  He  could  not  say  that  no  no- 
tice was  taken  of  the  command.  But  a 
wrought-iron  gate  on  the  left,  with  a  cov- 
ered way  leading  up  to  the  house,  and  the 
garden  (that  he  could  not  see)  leading 
down  to  the  river,  and  the  stables  (that 
he  could)  across  the  road — all  that  was 
past  and  gone  in  a  veritable  twinkling. 
And  though  he  turned  round  and  looked 

^8 


DOWN    THE    RIVER 

back,  it  was  only  to  get  a  sightless  stare 
from  sightless  windows,  to  catch  on  a 
board  "This  Delightful  Freehold  Resi- 
dence with  Grounds  and  Stabling,"  and  to 
echo  the  epithet  with  an  appreciative 
grunt. 

Five  or  six  minutes  later  the  smart 
young  man  was  driving  really  slowly 
along  a  narrow  road  between  patent 
wealth  and  blatant  semi-gentility;  on  the 
left  good  grounds,  shaded  by  cedar  and 
chestnut,  and  on  the  right  a  row  of  hide- 
ous little  houses,  as  pretentious  as  any 
that  ever  let  for  forty  pounds  within  forty 
minutes  of  Waterloo. 

"This  can't  be  it!"  shouted  Cazalet.  'Tt 
can't  be  here — stop!    Stop!    I  tell  you!" 

A  young  woman  had  appeared  in  one 
of  the  overpowering  wooden  porticoes; 
two  or  three  swinging  strides  were  bring- 
ing her  down  the  silly  little  path  to  the 

49 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

wicket-gate  with  the  idiotic  name;  there 
was  no  time  to  open  it  before  Cazalet 
blundered  up,  and  shot  his  hand  across  to 
get  a  grasp  as  firm  and  friendly  as  he 
gave. 

"Blanchie!" 

"Sweep!" 

They  were  their  two  nursery  names, 
hers  no  improvement  on  the  proper 
monosyllable,  and  his  a  rather  dubious 
token  of  pristine  proclivities.  But  out 
both  came  as  if  they  were  children  still, 
and  children  who  had  been  just  long 
enough  apart  to  start  with  a  good  honest 
mutual  stare. 

"You  aren't  a  bit  altered,"  declared  the 
man  of  thirty-three,  with  a  note  not  en- 
tirely tactful  in  his  admiring  voice.  But 
his  old  chum  only  laughed. 

"Fiddle!"  she  cried.  "But  you're  not 
altered  enough.  Sweep,  I'm  disappointed 
in  you.   Where's  your  beard?" 

50 


DOWN    THE    RIVER 

"I  liad  it  off  the  other  day.  I  always 
meant  to,"  he  explained,  "before  the  end 
of  the  voyage.  I  wasn't  going  to  land  like 
a  wild  man  of  the  woods,  you  know !" 

"Weren't  you !   I  call  it  mean." 

Her  scrutiny  became  severe,  but  soft- 
ened again  at  the  sight  of  his  clutched 
wide-awake  and  curiously  characterless, 
shapeless  suit. 

"You  may  well  look!"  he  cried,  de- 
lighted that  she  should.  "They're  awful 
old  duds,  I  know,  but  you  would  think 
them  a  wonder  if  you  saw  where  they 
came  from :  a  regular  roadside  shanty  in 
a  forsaken  township  at  the  back  of  be- 
yond. Extraordinary  cove,  the  chap  who 
made  them;  puts  in  every  stitch  himself, 
learns  Shakespeare  while  he's  at  it,  knew 
Lindsay  Gordon  and  Marcus  Clarke — " 

"I'm  sorry  to  interrupt,"  said  Blanche, 
laughing,  "but  there's  your  taxi  ticking 
lip  twopence  every  quarter  of  an  hour, 

SI 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

and  I  can't  let  it  go  on  without  warning 
you.   Where  have  you  come  from?" 

He  told  her  with  a  grin,  was  roundly 
reprimanded  for  his  extravagance,  but 
brazened  it  out  by  giving  the  smart  young 
man  a  sovereign  before  her  eyes.  After 
that,  she  said  he  had  better  come  in  be- 
fore the  neighbors  came  out  and  mobbed 
him  for  a  milh'onaire.  And  he  followed 
her  indoors  and  up-stairs,  into  a  little  new 
den  crowded  with  some  of  the  big  old 
things  he  could  remember  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent setting.  But  if  the  room  was  small 
it  had  a  balcony  that  was  hardly  any 
smaller,  on  top  of  that  unduly  imposing 
porch ;  and  out  there,  overlooking  the  fine 
grounds  opposite,  were  basket  chairs  and 
a  table,  hot  with  the  Indian  summer  sun. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  shocked  at  my 
abode,"  said  Blanche.  "I'm  afraid  I  can't 
help  it  if  you  are.  It's  just  big  enough  for 

52 


DOWN    THE    RIVER 

Martha  and  me ;  you  remember  old  Mar- 
tha, don't  you?  You'll  have  to  come  and 
see  her,  but  she'll  be  horribly  disappointed 
about  your  beard!" 

Coming  through  the  room,  stopping  to 
greet  a  picture  and  a  bookcase  (filling  a 
wall  each)  as  old  friends,  Cazalet  had 
descried  a  photograph  of  himself  with 
that  appendage.  He  had  threatened  to 
take  the  beastly  thing  away,  and  Blanche 
had  told  him  he  had  better  not.  But  it  did 
not  occur  to  Cazalet  that  it  was  the  pho- 
tograph to  which  Hilton  Toye  had  re- 
ferred, or  that  Toj^e  must  have  been  in 
this  very  room  to  see  it.  In  these  few 
hours  he  had  forgotten  the  man's  exist- 
ence, at  least  in  so  far  as  it  associated  it- 
self with  Blanche  Macnair. 

"The  others  all  wanted  me  to  live  near 
them,"  she  continued,  "but  as  no  two  of 
them  are  in  the  same  county  it  would  have 

53 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

meant  a  caravan.  Besides,  I  wasn't  going 
to  be  transplanted  at  my  age.  Here  one 
has  everybody  one  ever  knew,  except 
those  who  escape  by  emigrating,  simply 
at  one's  mercy  on  a  bicycle.  There's  more 
golf  and  tennis  than  I  can  find  time  to 
play;  and  I  still  keep  the  old  boat  in  the 
old  boat-house  at  Littleford,  because  it 
hasn't  let  or  sold  yet,  I'm  sorry  to  say." 

*'So  I  saw  as  I  passed,"  said  Cazalet. 
*That  board  hit  me  hard!" 

"The  place  being  empty  hits  me 
harder,"  rejoined  the  last  of  the  Mac- 
nairs.  "It's  going  down  in  value  every 
day  like  all  the  other  property  about  here, 
except  this  sort.  Mind  where  you  throw 
that  match.  Sweep!  I  don't  want  you  to 
set  fire  to  my  pampas-grass;  it's  the  only 
tree  I've  got!" 

Cazalet  laughed;  she  was  making  him 
laugh  quite  often.   But  the  pampas-grass, 

54 


DOWN    THE    RIVER 

like  the  rest  of  the  ridiculous  hltle  gar- 
den in  front,  was  obscured  if  not  over- 
hung by  tlie  balcony  on  which  they  sat. 
And  the  subject  seemed  one  to  change. 

"It  was  simply  glorious  coming  down," 
he  said.  "I  wouldn't  swap  that  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  for  a  bale  of  wool; 
but,  I  say,  there  are  some  changes!  The 
whole  show  in  the  streets  is  different.  I 
could  have  spotted  it  with  my  eyes  and 
ears  shut.  They  used  to  smell  like  a  stable, 
and  now  they  smell  like  a  lamp.  And  I 
used  to  think  the  old  cabbies  could  drive, 
but  their  job  was  child's  play  to  the  taxi- 
man's!  We  were  at  Hammersmith  before 
I  could  light  my  pipe,  and  almost  down 
here  before  it  went  out!  But  you  can't 
think  how  every  mortal  thing  on  the  way 
appealed  to  me.  The  only  blot  was  a  fu- 
neral at  Barnes;  it  seemed  such  a  sin  to 
be  buried  on  a  day  like  tliis,  and  a  fellow 

55 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

like  me  just  coming  home  to  enjoy  him- 
self!" 

He  had  turned  grave,  but  not  graver 
than  at  the  actual  moment  coming  down. 
Indeed,  he  was  simply  coming  down 
again,  for  her  benefit  and  his  own,  with- 
out an  ulterior  trouble  until  Blanche  took 
him  up  with  a  long  face  of  her  own. 

"We've  had  a  funeral  here.  I  suppose 
you  know?" 

"Yes.   I  know." 

Her  chair  creaked  as  she  leaned  for- 
ward with  an  enthusiastic  solemnity  that 
would  have  made  her  shriek  if  she  had 
seen  herself;  but  it  had  no  such  effect  on 
Cazalet. 

"I  wonder  who  can  have  done  it !" 

"So  do  the  police,  and  they  don't  look 
much  like  finding  out!" 

"It  must  have  been  for  his  watch  and 
money,  don't  you  think?    And  yet  they 

56 


DOWN    Till-:    KI\7-R 

say  he  had  S(j  many  enemies !"  Cazalel 
kept  silence ;  but  she  thought  he  winced. 
"Of  course  it  must  have  been  the  man 
who  ran  out  of  the  drive,"  she  concluded 
hastily.  "WHiere  were  you  when  it  hap- 
pened, Sweep?" 

Somewhat  hoarsely  he  was  recalling  the 
Mediterranean  movements  of  the  Kaiser 
F7'itz,  when  at  the  first  mention  of  the 
vessel's  name  he  was  firmly  heckled. 

"Sweep,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you 
came  by  a  German  steamer?" 

"I  do.  It  was  the  first  going,  and  why 
should  I  waste  a  week  ?  Besides,  you  can 
generally  get  a  cabin  to  yourself  on  the 
German  line." 

"So  that's  why  you're  here  before  the 
end  of  the  month,"  said  Blanche.  "Well, 
I  call  it  most  unpatriotic ;  but  the  cabin  to 
yourself  was  certainly  some  excuse." 

"That  reminds  me!"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
S7 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

hadn't  it  to  myself  all  the  way;  there  was 
another  fellow  in  with  me  from  Genoa; 
and  the  last  night  on  board  it  came  out 
that  he  knew  you !" 

"Who  can  it  have  been?" 

"Toye,  his  name  was.   Hilton  Toye." 

"An  American  man!  Oh,  but  I  know 
him  very  well,"  said  Blanche  in  a  tone 
both  strained  and  cordial.  "He's  great 
fun,  Mr.  Toye,  with  his  delightful  Amer- 
icanisms, and  the  perfectly  delightful  way 
he  says  them!" 

Cazalet  puckered  like  the  primitive  man 
he  was,  when  taken  at  all  by  surprise; 
and  that  anybody,  much  less  Blanche, 
should  think  Toye,  of  all  people,  either 
"delightful"  or  "great  fun"  was  certainly 
a  surprise  to  him,  if  it  was  nothing  else. 
Of  course  it  was  nothing  else,  to  his  im- 
mediate knowledge;  still,  he  was  rather 

58 


DOWN    THE    RIVER 

ready  to  think  that  Blanche  was  blushing, 
but  forgot,  if  indeed  he  had  been  in  a  fit 
state  to  see  it  at  the  time,  that  she  had 
paid  himself  the  same  high  compliment 
across  the  gate.  On  the  whole,  it  may  be 
said  that  Cazalet  was  ruffled  without  feel- 
insr  seriously  disturbed  as  to  the  essential 
issue  which  alone  leaped  to  his  mind. 

"Where  did  you  meet  the  fellow?"  he 
inquired,  with  the  suitable  admixture  of 
confidence  and  amusement. 

"In  the  first  instance,  at  Engelberg." 

"Engelberg!   Where's  that?" 

"Only  one  of  those  places  in  Switzer- 
land where  ever}'body  goes  nowadays  for 
what  they  call  winter  sports." 

She  was  not  even  smiling  at  his  ar- 
rogant ignorance ;  she  was  merely  explain- 
ing one  geographical  point  and  another  of 
general    information.     A   close   observer 

59 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

might  have  thought  her  ahnost  anxious 
not  to  identify  herself  too  closely  with  a 
popular  craze. 

"I  dare  say  you  mehtioned  it,"  said 
Cazalet,  but  rather  as  though  he  was  won- 
dering why  she  had  not. 

"I  dare  say  I  didn't !  Everything  won't 
go  into  an  annual  letter.  It  was  the  win- 
ter before  last — I  went  out  with  Betty 
and  her  husband." 

"And  after  that  he  took  a  place  down 
here?" 

"Yes.  Then  I  met  him  on  the  river  the 
following  summer,  and  found  he'd  got 
rooms  in  one  of  the  Nell  Gwynne  Cot- 
tages, if  you  call  that  a  place." 

"I  see." 

But  there  was  no  more  to  see;  there 
never  had  been  much,  but  now  Blanche 
was  standing  up  and  gazing  out  of  the 
balcony  into  the  belt  of  singing  sunshine 

60 


DOWN    TIIK    RIVER 

between  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  and 
the  invisible  river  acres  away. 

*'\\'hy  shouldn't  we  go  down  to  Little- 
ford  and  get  out  the  boat  if  you're  really 
going  to  make  an  afternoon  of  it?"  she 
said.  "But  you  simply  must  see  ]\Iartha 
first ;  and  while  she's  making  herself  fit  to 
be  seen,  you  must  take  something  for  the 
good  of  the  house.  I'll  bring  it  to  you  on 
a  lordly  tray." 

She  brought  him  siphon,  stoppered  bot- 
tle, a  silver  biscuit-box  of  ancient  memo- 
ries, and  left  him  alone  with  them  some 
little  time;  for  the  young  mistress,  like 
her  old  retainer  in  another  minute,  was 
simply  dying  to  make  herself  more  pre- 
sentable. Yet  when  she  had  done  so,  and 
came  back  like  snow,  in  a  shirl  and  skirt 
just  home  from  the  laundry,  she  saw  that 
he  did  not  see  the  (Hfference.  His  de- 
vouring eyes  shone  neither  more  nor  less ; 

6i 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

but  he  had  also  devoured  every  biscuit  in 
the  box,  though  he  had  begun  by  vowing 
that  he  had  lunched  in  town,  and  stuck  to 
the  fable  still. 

Old  Martha  had  known  him  all  his  life, 
but  best  at  the  period  when  he  used  to 
come  to  nursery  tea  at  Littleford.  She 
declared  she  would  have  known  him  any- 
where as  he  was,  but  she  simply  hadn't 
recognized  him  in  that  photograph  with 
his  beard. 

"I  can  see  where  it's  been,"  said  Mar- 
tha, looking  him  in  the  lower  temperate 
zone.  "But  I'm  so  glad  you've  had  it  off, 
Mr.  Cazalet." 

"There  you  are,  Blanchie!"  crowed 
Cazalet.  "You  said  she'd  be  disappointed, 
but  Martha's  got  better  taste." 

"It  isn't  that,  sir,"  said  Martha  ear- 
nestly. "It's  because  the  dreadful  man 
who  was  seen  running  out  of  the  drive,  at 

62 


DOWN    THE    RIVER 

your  old  home,  he  liad  a  beard!  It's  in  all 
the  notices  about  him,  and  that's  what's 
put  me  against  them,  and  makes  me  glad 
you've  had  yours  off." 

Blanche  turned  to  him  with  too  ready 
a  smile ;  but  then  she  was  really  not  such 
a  great  age  as  she  pretended,  and  she  had 
never  been  in  better  spirits  in  her  life. 

"You  hear,  Sweep!  I  call  it  rather 
lucky  for  you  that  you  were — " 

But  just  then  she  saw  his  face,  and  re- 
membered the  things  that  had  been  said 
about  Henry  Craven  by  the  Cazalets' 
friends,  even  ten  years  ago,  when  she 
really  had  been  a  girl. 


y. 


AN  UNTIMELY  YISITOR 

SHE  really  was  one  still,  for  in  these 
days  it  is  an  elastic  term,  and  in 
Blanche's  case  there  was  no  apparent  rea- 
son why  it  should  ever  cease  to  apply,  or 
to  be  applied  by  every  decent  tongue  ex- 
cept her  own.  If,  however,  it  be  conceded 
that  she  herself  had  reached  the  purely 
mental  stage  of  some  self-consciousness 
on  the  point  of  girlhood,  it  can  not  be  too 
clearly  stated  that  it  was  the  only  point 
in  which  Blanclie  Macnair  had  ever  been 
self-conscious  in  her  life. 

IMuch  the  best  tennis-player  among  the 
ladies  of  the  neighborhood,  she  drove  an 
almost  unbecomingly   long  ball   at   golf, 

64 


AN    UNTIMELY    VISITOR 

and  never  looked  better  than  when  pad- 
dling her  old  canoe,  or  punting  in  the  old 
punt.  And  yet,  this  wonderful  September 
afternoon,  she  did  somehow  look  even 
better  tlian  at  cither  or  any  of  those  con- 
genial pursuits,  and  that  long  before  they 
reached  the  river ;  in  the  empty  house, 
which  had  known  her  as  baby,  child  and 
grown-up  girl,  to  the  companion  of  some 
part  of  all  three  stages,  she  looked  a  more 
lustrous  and  a  lovelier  Blanche  than  he 
remembered  even  of  old. 

But  she  was  not  really  lovely  in  the 
least;  that  also  must  be  put  beyond  the 
pale  of  misconception.  Her  hair  was 
beautiful,  and  perhaps  her  skin,  and,  in 
some  lights,  her  eyes;  the  rest  was  not. 
It  was  vellow  hair,  not  golden,  and  Caza- 
let  would  have  given  all  he  had  about  him 
to  see  it  down  again  as  in  the  oldest  of 
old  days ;  but  there  was  more  gold  in  her 

(3.S 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

skin,  for  so  the  sun  had  treated  it;  and 
there  was  even  hint  or  glint  (in  certain 
h'ghts,  be  it  repeated)  of  gold  mingling 
with  the  pure  hazel  of  her  eyes.  But  in 
the  dusty  shadows  of  the  empty  house, 
moving  like  a  sunbeam  across  its  bare 
boards,  standing  out  against  the  discol- 
ored walls  in  the  place  of  remembered  pic- 
tures not  to  be  compared  with  her,  it  was 
there  that  she  was  all  golden  and  still  a 
girl. 

They  poked  their  noses  into  the  old 
bogy-hole  under  the  nursery  stairs;  they 
swung  the  gate  at  the  head  of  the  next 
flight ;  they  swore  to  finger-marks  on  the 
panels  that  were  all  the  walls  of  the  top 
story,  and  they  had  a  laugh  in  every  cor- 
ner, childish  crimes  to  reconstruct,  quite 
bitter  battles  to  fight  over  again,  but 
never  a  lump  in  either  throat  that  the 
other  could  have  guessed  was  there.    And 

66 


AN    UNTIMELY    VISITOR 

so  out  upon  tlie  leafy  lawn,  shelving 
abruptly  to  the  river;  round  first,  how- 
ever, to  the  drying-green  where  the  care- 
takers' garments  were  indeed  drying  un- 
ashamed; but  they  knew  each  other  well 
enough  to  laugh  aloud,  had  picked  each 
other  up  much  farther  back  than  the  point 
of  parting  ten  years  ago,  almost  as  far 
as  the  days  of  mixed  cricket  with  a  toy 
set,   on  that  very  green. 

Then  there  was  the  poor  old  green- 
house, sagging  in  every  slender  timber, 
broken  as  to  every  other  cobwebbed  pane, 
empty  and  debased  within;  they  could  not 
bring  themselves  to  enter  here. 

Last  of  all  there  was  the  summer 
schoolroom  over  the  boat-house,  quite 
apart  from  the  house  itself;  scene  of  such 
safe  yet  reckless  revels;  in  its  very  aura 
late  Victorian! 

It  lay  hidden  in  ivy  at  the  end  of  a  now 

67 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

neglected  path ;  the  bow-windows  over- 
looking the  river  were  framed  in  ivy,  like 
three  matted,  whiskered,  dirty,  happy 
faces;  one,  with  its  lower  sash  propped 
open  by  a  broken  plant-pot,  might  have 
been  grinning  a  toothless  welcome  to  two 
once  leading  spirits  of  the  place. 

Cazalet  whittled  a  twig  and  wedged 
that  sash  np  altogether;  then  he  sat  him- 
self on  the  sill,  his  long  legs  inside.  But 
his  knife  had  reminded  him  of  his  plug 
tobacco.  And  his  plug  tobacco  took  him 
as  straight  back  to  the  bush  as  though  the 
unsound  floor  had  changed  under  their 
feet  into  a  magic  carpet. 

"You  simply  have  it  put  down  to  the 
man's  account  in  the  station  books.  No- 
body keeps  ready  money  up  at  the  bush, 
not  even  the  price  of  a  plug  like  this ;  but 
the  chap  I'm  telling  you  about  (I  can  see 
him  now,  with  his  great  red  beard  and 

68 


AN    UNTIMELY    VISITOR 

freckled  fists)  he  swore  I  Avas  charging 
him  for  half  a  pound  more  than  he'd  ever 
liad.  I  was  station  storekeeper,  you  see ; 
it  was  quite  the  heginning  of  things,  and 
I'd  have  had  to  pay  the  few  hob  myself, 
and  be  made  to  look  so  small  that  I 
shoulfln't  Iiavc  had  a  soul  to  call  my  own 
on  the  run.  So  I  fought  him  for  the  dif- 
ference ;  we  fought  for  twenty  minutes 
behind  the  wood-heap;  then  he  gave  me 
hest,  but  I  had  to  turn  in  till  I  could  see 
again." 

"You  don't  mean  that  he — " 

Blanche  had  looked  rather  disgusted 
the  moment  before;  now  she  was  all 
truculent  suspense  and  indignation. 

"Beat  me  ?"  he  cried.  "Good  Lord,  no ; 
but  there  was  none  too  much  in  it." 

THres  died  down  in  her  hazel  eyes,  lay 
lambent  as  soft  moonlight,  flickered  into 
laughter  before  he  had  seen  the  fire. 

69 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"I'm  afraid  you're  a  very  dangerous 
person,"  said  Blanche. 

"You've  got  to  be,"  he  assured  her; 
"it's  the  only  way.  Don't  take  a  word 
from  anybody,  unless  you  mean  him  to 
wipe  his  boots  on  you,  I  soon  found  that 
out.  I'd  have  given  something  to  have 
learned  the  noble  art  before  I  went  out. 
Did  I  ever  tell  you  how  it  was  I  first  came 
across  old  Venus  Potts?" 

He  had  told  her  at  great  length,  to 
the  exclusion  of  about  every  other  topic, 
in  the  second  of  the  annual  letters;  and 
throughout  the  series  the  inevitable  name 
of  Venus  Potts  had  seldom  cropped  up 
without  some  allusion  to  that  Homeric  en- 
counter. But  it  was  well  worth  while 
having  it  all  over  again  with  the  intricate 
and  picaresque  embroidery  of  a  tongue 
far  mightier  than  the  pen  hitherto  em- 
ployed upon  the  incident.     Poor  Blanche 

70 


AN    UNTIMELY    VISITOR 

had  almost  to  hold  her  nose  over  the  pri- 
mary cause  of  battle;  but  the  dialogue 
was  delightful,  and  Cazalet  himself  made 
a  most  gallant  and  engaging  figure  as  he 
sat  on  the  sill  and  reeled  it  out.  Pie  had 
always  been  a  fluent  teller  of  any  happen- 
ing, and  Blanche  a  ready  commentator, 
capable  of  raising  the  general  level  of  the 
entertainment  at  any  moment.  But  after 
all  these  centuries  it  was  fun  enough  to 
listen  as  long  as  he  liked  to  go  on ;  and 
perhaps  she  saw  that  he  had  more  scope 
where  they  were  than  he  could  ha\e  had 
in  the  boat,  or  it  may  have  been  an  un- 
realized spell  that  bound  them  both  to 
their  bare  old  haunt ;  hut  there  they  were 
a  good  twenty  minutes  later,  and  old 
Venus  Potts  was  still  on  the  magic  tapis, 
though  Cazalet  had  dropped  his  boasting 
for  a  curiously  humble,  eager  and  yet 
ineffectual  vein. 

71 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"Old  Venus  Potts!"  he  kept  ejaculat- 
ing. "You  couldn't  help  liking  him.  And 
he'd  like  you,  my  word !" 

"Is  his  wife  nice?"  Blanche  wanted  to 
know ;  but  she  was  looking  so  intently  out 
her  window,  at  the  opposite  end  of  the 
bow  to  Cazalet's,  that  a  man  of  the  wider 
world  might  have  thought  of  something 
else  to  talk  about. 

Out  her  window  she  looked  past  a  wil- 
low that  had  been  part  of  the  old  life,  in 
the  direction  of  an  equally  typical  silhou- 
ette of  patient  anglers  anchored  in  a  punt ; 
they  had  not  raised  a  rod  between  them 
during  all  this  time  that  Blanche  had  been 
out  in  Australia ;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact 
she  never  saw  them,  since,  vastly  to  the 
credit  of  Cazalet's  descriptive  powers,  she 
was  out  in  Australia  still. 

"Nelly  Potts?"  he  said.  "Oh,  a  jolly 
good  sort;  you'd  be  awful  pals." 

72 


AN    UXTTMr.LV    MSTTOR 

"vSlioiild  we?"  said  Blanche,  just  smil- 
ing at  her  invisible  anglers. 

"I  know  yon  would,"  he  assured  her 
with  immense  conviction.  "Of  course  she 
can't  do  the  things  you  do ;  but  she  can 
ride,  my  word !  So  she  ought  to,  when 
she's  lived  there  all  her  life.  The  rooms 
aren't  much,  but  the  verandas  are  what 
count  most ;  tliey're  better  than  any 
rooms.  There  are  two  distinct  ends  to  the 
station — it's  like  two  houses;  but  of 
course  the  barracks  were  good  enough 
just  for  me." 

She  knew  about  the  bachelors'  bar- 
racks ;  the  annual  letter  had  been  really 
very  full ;  and  then  she  was  still  out  there, 
cultivating  Nelly  Potts  on  a  very  deep 
veranda,  thougli  her  straw  hat  and  straw 
hair  remained  in  contradictory  evidence 
against  a  very  dirty  window  on  the  Alid- 
dlesex  bank  of  the  Thames.    It   was   a 

7?> 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

shame  of  the  September  sun  to  show  the 
dirt  as  it  was  doing ;  not  only  was  there  a 
great  steady  pool  of  sunlight  on  the  un- 
speakable floor,  but  a  doddering  reflec- 
tion from  the  river  on  the  disreputable 
ceiling.  Cazalet  looked  rather  desperately 
from  one  to  the  other,  and  both  the  calm 
pool  and  the  rough  were  broken  by  shad- 
ows, one  more  impressionistic  than  the 
other,  of  a  straw  hat  over  a  stack  of 
straw  hair,  that  had  not  gone  out  to  Aus- 
tralia— yet. 

And  of  course  just  then  a  step  sounded 
outside  somewhere  on  some  gravel.  Con- 
found those  caretakers!  What  were  they 
doing,  prowling  about? 

"I  say,  Blanchie!"  he  blurted  out.  "I 
do  believe  you'd  like  it  out  there,  a  sports- 
woman like  you!  I  believe  you'd  take  to 
it  like  a  duck  to  water." 

He  had  floundered  to  his  feet  as  well. 
74 


AN    UNTIMELY    VISITOR 

He  was  standing  over  her,  feeling  his 
way  like  a  great  fatuous  coward,  so  some 
might  have  thought.  But  it  really  looked 
as  though  Blanche  was  not  attending  to 
what  he  did  say ;  yet  neither  was  she 
watching  her  little  anglers  stamped  in  jet 
upon  a  silvery  stream,  nor  even  seeing  any 
more  of  Nelly  Potts  in  the  Australian 
veranda.  She  had  come  home  from  Aus- 
tralia, and  come  in  from  the  river,  and 
she  was  watching  the  open  door  at  the 
other  end  of  the  old  schoolroom,  listening 
to  those  confounded  steps  coming  nearer 
and  nearer — and  Cazalet  was  gazing  at 
her  as  though  he  really  had  said  some- 
thing that  deserved  an  answer. 

"W^y,  IMiss  Blanche!"  cried  a  voice. 
"And  your  old  lady-in-waiting  figured  I 
should  find  you  flown!" 

Hilton  Toye  was  already  a  landsman 
and  a  Londoner  from  top  to  toe.   He  was 

75 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

perfectly  dressed — for  Bond  Street — and 
his  native  simplicity  of  bearing  and  ad- 
dress placed  him  as  surely  and  firmly  in 
the  present  picture.  He  did  not  look  the 
least  bit  out  of  it.  But  Cazalet  did,  in  an 
instant;  his  old  bush  clothes  changed  at 
once  into  a  merely  shabby  suit  of  despi- 
cable cut;  the  romance  dropped  out  of 
them  and  their  wearer,  as  he  stood  like  a 
trussed  turkey-cock,  and  watched  a  bunch 
of  hothouse  flowers  presented  to  the  lady 
with  a  little  gem  of  a  natural,  courteous, 
and  yet  characteristically  racy  speech. 

To  the  lady,  mark  you ;  for  she  was  one, 
on  the  spot ;  and  Cazalet  was  a  man  again, 
and  making  a  mighty  effort  to  behave 
himself  because  the  hour  of  boy  and  girl 
was  over. 

"Mr.  Cazalet,"  said  Toye,  'T  guess  you 
want  to  know  what  in  thunder  I'm  doing 
on  your  tracks  so  soon.    It's   hog-luck, 

1^ 


AN    i;XTTMRf.y    VISITOR 

sir,  because  I  wanted  to  see  you  quite  a 
lot,  but  I  never  thought  I'd  strike  you 
right  here.    Did  you  hear  the  news?" 

"No!   What?" 

There  was  no  need  to  inquire  as  to  the 
class  of  news;  the  immediate  past  had 
come  back  with  Toye  into  Cazalet's  life; 
and  even  in  Blanche's  presence,  even  in 
her  schoolroom,  the  old  days  had  flown 
into  their  proper  place  and  size  in  the 
perspective. 

"They've  made  an  arrest,"  said  Toye; 
and  Cazalet  nodded  as  though  he  had 
quite  expected  it,  which  set  Blanche  off 
trying  to  remember  something  he  had  said 
at  the  other  house ;  but  she  had  not  suc- 
ceeded when  she  noticed  the  curious  pal- 
lor of  his  chin  and  forehead. 

"Scruton?"  he  just  asked. 

"Yes,  sir!  This  morning,"  said  Hilton 
Toye. 

77 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"You  don't  mean  the  poor  man?"  cried 
Blanche,  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Yes,  he  does,''  said  Cazalet  gloomily. 
He  stared  out  at  the  river,  seeing  nothing 
in  his  turn,  though  one  of  the  anglers  was 
actually  busy  with  his  reel. 

"But  I  thought  Mr.  Scruton  was 
still — "  Blanche  remembered  him,  re- 
membered dancing  with  him;  she  did  not 
like  to  say,  "in  prison." 

"He  came  out  the  other  day,"  sighed 
Cazalet.  "But  how  like  the  police  all  over! 
Give  a  dog  a  bad  name,  and  trust  them  to 
hunt  it  down  and  shoot  it  at  sight!" 

"I  judge  It's  not  so  bad  as  all  that  in 
this  country,"  said  Hikon  Toye.  "That's 
more  like  the  police  theory  about  Scruton, 
I  guess,  bar  drawing  the  bead." 

"When  did  you  hear  of  it  ?"  said  Caza- 
let. 

"It  was  on  the  tape  at  the  Savoy  when 

78 


AN    UNTIMELY    VISITOR 

I  got  there.  So  I  made  an  inquiry,  and  I 
figured  to  look  in  at  the  Kingston  Court 
on  my  way  to  call  upon  Miss  Blanche. 
You  sec,  I  was  kind  of  interested  in  all 
you'd  told  me  about  the  case." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  that  was  my  end  of  the  situa- 
tion. As  luck  and  management  would 
have  it  between  tlicm.  I  was  in  lime  to 
hear  vour  man — '' 

"Not  my  man,  please!  You  thought  of 
him  yourself,"  said  Cazalet  sharply. 

"Well,  anyway,  I  was  in  lime  to  hear 
the  ])roceedings  opened  against  him. 
They  were  all  o\cr  in  about  a  minute,  lie 
was  remanded  till  next  week." 

"How  did  he  look?"  and.  "Mad  he  a 
beard  ?"  demanded  Cazalet  and  Blanche 
simultaneously. 

"He  looked  like  a  sick  man,"  said  Toye, 
with  something  more  than  his  usual  dc- 

79 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

liberation  in  answering  or  asking  ques- 
tions. "Yes,  Miss  Blanche,  he  had  a  beard 
worthy  of  a  free  citizen." 

"They  let  them  grow  one,  if  they  like, 
before  they  come  out,"  said  Cazalet,  with 
the  nod  of  knowledge. 

"Then  I  guess  he  was  a  wise  man  not 
to  take  it  ofif,"  rejoined  Hilton  Toye. 
"That  would  only  prejudice  his  case,  if 
it's  going  to  be  one  of  identity,  with  that 
head  gardener  playing  lead  in  the  wit- 
ness-stand." 

"Old  Savage !"  snorted  Cazalet.  "Why, 
he  was  a  dotard  in  our  time ;  they  couldn't 
hang  a  dog  on  his  evidence !" 

"Still,"  said  Blanche,  "I'd  rather  have 
it  than  circumstantial  evidence,  wouldn't 
you,  Mr.  Toye?" 

"No,  Miss  Blanche,  I  would  not,"  re- 
plied Toye,  with  unhesitating  candor. 
"The  worst  evidence  in  the  world,  in  ni}^ 

So 


AN    UNTIMELY    VISITOR 

opinion,  and  I've  given  llic  matter  sonic 
thought,  is  the  evidence  of  identity."  He 
turned  to  Cazalet,  who  had  betrayed  a 
quickened  interest  in  liis  views.  "Shall 
I  tell  you  why?  Think  how  often  you're 
not  so  sure  if  you  have  seen  a  man  be- 
fore or  if  you  never  have!  You  kind  of 
shrink  from  nockling,  or  else  you  nod 
wrong;  if  you  didn't  ever  have  that  feel- 
ing, then  you're  not  like  any  other  man  I 
know." 

'T  have!"  cried  Cazalet.  "I've  had  it 
all  my  life,  even  in  the  wilds;  but  I  never 
thought  of  it  before."' 

"Think  of  it  now,"  said  Toye,  "and 
you'll  see  there  may  be  flaws  in  the  best 
evidence  of  identity  that  money  can  buy. 
But  circumstantial  evidence  can't  lie,  Miss 
Blanche,  if  you  get  enough  of  it.  If  the 
links  fit  in,  to  prove  that  a  certain  person 
was  in  a  certain  place  at  a  certain  time, 

8i 


rilE    THOUSAxNDTlI    WOMAN 

I  guess  that's  worth  all  the  oaths  of  all 
the  eye-witnesses  that  ever  saw  daylight!" 

Cazalet  laughed  harshly,  as  for  no  ap- 
parent reason  he  led  the  way  into  the  gar- 
den. "Mr.  Toye's  made  a  study  of  these 
things,"  he  fired  over  his  shoulder.  "He 
should  have  been  a  Sherlock  Holmes,  and 
rather  wishes  he  was  one!" 
"  "Give  me  time,"  said  Toye,  laughing. 
"I  may  come  along  that  way  yet." 

Cazalet  faced  him  in  a  frame  of  tan- 
gled greenery.  "You  told  me  you 
wouldn't!" 

"I  did,  sir,  but  that  was  before  they  put 
salt  on  this  poor  old  crook.  If  you're 
right,  and  he's  not  the  man,  shouldn't  you 
say  that  rather  altered  the  situation?" 


VI 


VOLUNTARY   SERVICE 

"     /\^D  why  do  you  think  he  can't  have 
y^.  done  it?" 

Cazalet  had  trundled  the  old  canoe  over 
the  rollers,  and  Blanche  was  hardly  pad- 
dling in  the  glassy  strip  alongside  the 
weir.  Big  drops  clustered  on  her  idle 
blades,  and  made  tiny  circles  as  they  met 
themselves  in  the  shining  mirror.  But  be- 
low the  lock  there  had  been  something  to 
do,  and  Blanche  had  done  it  deftly  and 
silently,  with  almost  equal  capacity  and 
grace.  It  had  given  her  a  charming  flush 
and  sparkle;  and,  what  with  the  sun's  bare 
hand  on  her  yellow  hair,  she  now  looked 
even  bonnier  than  indoors,  yet  not  quite, 

83 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOAIAN 

quite  such  a  girl.  But  then  every  bit  of 
the  boy  had  gone  out  of  Cazalet.  So  that 
hour  stolen  from  the  past  was  up  forever. 

"Why  do  the  police  think  the  other 
thing?"  he  retorted.  "What  have  they 
got  to  go  on?  That's  what  I  want  to 
know.  I  agree  with  Toye  in  one  thing." 
Blanche  looked  up  quickly.  "I  wouldn't 
trust  old  Savage  an  inch.  I've  been  think- 
ing about  him  and  his  precious  evidence. 
Do  you  realize  that  it's  quite  dark  now 
soon  after  seven?  It  was  pretty  thick  say- 
ing his  man  was  bareheaded,  with  neither 
hat  nor  cap  left  behind  to  prove  It!  Yet 
now  it  seems  he's  put  a  beard  to  him,  and 
next  we  shall  have  the  color  of  his  eyes !" 

Blanche  laughed  at  his  vigor  of  phrase; 
this  was  more  like  the  old,  hot-tempered, 
sometimes  rather  overbearing  Sweep. 
Sometliing  had  made  liini  jump  to  the 
conclusion  tliat  Scruton  could  not  possibly 

84 


VOLUXTARV    SKRMCK 

have  killed  Mr.  Craven,  whatever  else  he 
might  have  clone  in  days  gone  by.  So  it 
simply  zcas  impossible,  and  anybody  who 
took  the  other  side,  or  had  a  word  to  say 
for  the  police,  as  a  force  not  unknown  to 
look  before  it  leaped,  would  have  to 
reckon  henceforth  with  Sweep  Cazalet. 

Mr.  Toye  already  had  reckoned  with 
him.  in  a  little  debate  begun  outside  the 
old  summer  schoolroom  at  Littleford,  and 
adjourned  rather  than  finished  at  the  iron 
gate  into  the  road.  In  her  heart  of  hearts 
Blanche  could  not  say  that  Cazalet  had 
the  best  of  the  argument,  except,  indeed, 
in  the  matter  of  heated  emphasis  and 
scornful  asseveration.  It  was  difficult, 
however,  to  know  what  line  he  really 
took;  for  while  he  scouted  the  very  notion 
of  uiiC(jrroborated  identification  by  old 
Savage,  he  discredited  with  equal  warmth 
all  Toye's  contentions  on  behalf  of  cir- 

8.S 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

cumstantial  evidence.  Toye  had  advanced 
a  general  principle  with  calm  ability,  but 
Cazalet  could  not  be  shifted  from  the  par- 
ticular position  he  was  so  eager  to  de- 
fend, and  would  only  enter  into  abstract 
questions  to  beg  them  out  of  hand. 

Blanche  rather  thought  that  neither 
quite  understood  what  the  other  meant; 
but  she  could  not  blink  the  fact  that  the 
old  friend  had  neither  the  dialectical  mind 
nor  the  unfailing  courtesy  of  the  new. 
That  being  so,  with  her  perception  she 
might  have  changed  the  subject;  but  she 
could  see  that  Cazalet  was  thinking  of 
nothing  else;  and  no  wonder,  since  they 
were  approaching  the  scene  of  the  tragedy 
and  his  own  old  home,  with  each  long  dip 
of  her  paddle. 

It  had  been  his  own  wish  to  start  up- 
stream; but  she  could  see  the  wistful  pain 
in  his  eyes  as  they  fell  once  more  upon  the 

86 


VOLUNTARY    SERVICE 

red  turrets  and  the  smooth  green  lawn  of 
Uplands;  and  she  neither  spoke  nor 
looked  at  him  again  until  he  spoke  to  her, 

"I  see  they've  got  the  blinds  down 
still,"  he  said  detachedly.  "What's  hap- 
pened to  Mrs.  Craven?" 

"I  hear  she  went  into  a  nursing  home 
before  the  funeral." 

"Then  there's  nobody  there?" 

"It  doesn't  look  as  if  there  was,  does 
it?"  said  poor  Blanche. 

"I  expect  we  should  find  Savage  some- 
where. Would  you  very  much  mind, 
Blanche?  I  should  rather  like — if  it  was 
just  setting  foot — with  you — " 

But  even  that  effective  final  pronoun 
failed  to  bring  any  buoyancy  back  into  his 
voice;  for  it  was  not  in  the  least  effective 
as  he  said  it,  and  he  no  longer  looked  her 
in  the  face.  But  this  all  seemed  natural 
to   Blanche,    in   the   manifold   and   over- 

87 


THE   THOUSY\NDTn    WOMAN 

lapping  circumstances  of  the  case.  She 
made  for  the  inlet  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
lawn.  And  her  prompt  unquestioning  ac- 
quiescence shamed  Cazalet  into  further 
and  franker  explanation,  before  he  could 
let  her  land  to  please  him. 

"You  don't  know  how  I  feel  this!"  he 
exclaimed  quite  miserably.  "I  mean 
about  poor  old  Scruton ;  he's  gone  through 
so  much  as  it  is,  whatever  he  may  have 
done  to  deserve  it  long  ago.  And  he 
wasn't  the  only  one,  or  the  worst;  some 
day  I'll  tell  you  how  I  know,  but  you  may 
take  it  from  me  that's  so.  The  real  vil- 
lain's gone  to  his  account.  I  won't  pre- 
tend I'm  sorry  for  him.  De  mortnis 
doesn't  apply  if  you've  got  to  invent  the 
honum!  But  Scruton — after  ten  years — 
only  think  of  it!  Is  it  conceivable  that  he 
should  go  and  do  a  thing  like  this  the 

88 


VOLUXTARV    SRRMCK 

very  nionK'iil  he  gets  (nit?  1  ask  you,  is  it 
even  conceivable?" 

He  asked  iier  with  something  of  the 
ferocity  with  wliich  lie  had  turned  on 
Toye  for  suggesting  tliat  the  pohce  might 
have  something  up  their  sleeves,  and  be 
given  a  chance.  But  Blanche  understood 
him.  And  now  she  showed  herself  golden 
to  the  core,  almost  as  an  earnest  of  her 
fitness  for  the  fires  before  her. 

"Poor  fellow,"  she  cried,  "he  has  a 
friend  in  you,  at  any  rate!  And  I'll  help 
you  to  help  him,  if  there's  any  way  I 
can?" 

He  clutched  her  hand,  but  only  as  he 
might  have  clutched  a  man's. 

"You  can't  do  anything;  but  I  won't 
forget  that,"  he  almost  choked.  "I  meant 
to  stand  by  him  in  a  very  different  way. 
He'd  been  down  to  the  depths,  and  I'd 

89 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

come  up  a  bit ;  then  he  was  good  to  me 
as  a  lad,  and  it  was  my  father's  partner 
who  was  the  ruin  of  him.  I  seemed  to 
owe  him  something,  and  now — now  I'll 
stand  by  him  whatever  happens  and — 
whatever  has  happened !" 

Then  they  landed  in  the  old,  old  inlet. 
Cazalet  knew  every  knot  in  the  post  to 
which  he  tied  Blanche's  canoe. 

It  was  a  very  different  place,  this  Up- 
lands, from  poor  old  Littleford  on  the 
lower  reach.  The  grounds  were  five  or  six 
acres  instead  of  about  one,  and  a  house  in 
quite  another  class  stood  farther  back 
from  the  river  and  very  much  farther 
from  the  road. 

The  inlet  began  the  western  boundary, 
which  continued  past  the  boat-house  in  the 
shape  of  a  high  hedge,  a  herbaceous  bor- 
der (not  what  it  had  been  in  the  old 
days),  and  a  gravel  path.   This  path  was 

90 


VOLUNTARY    SERVICE 

screened  from  the  lawn  bv  a  bank  of 
rhododendrons,  as  of  course  were  the 
back  yard  and  kitchen  premises,  past 
which  it  led  into  the  front  garden,  even- 
tually debouching  into  the  drive.  It  was 
the  path  along  which  Cazalet  led  the  way 
this  afternoon,  and  Blanche  at  his  heels 
was  so  struck  by  something  that  she  could 
not  help  telling  him  he  knew  his  way  very 
well. 

"Every  inch  of  it!"  he  said  bitterly. 
"But  so  I  ought,  if  anybody  does." 

"But  these  rhododendrons  weren't  here 
in  your  time.  They're  the  one  improve- 
ment. Don't  }-ou  remember  how  the  path 
ran  round  to  the  other  end  of  the  yard? 
This  gate  into  it  wasn't  made." 

"No  more  it  was,"  said  Cazalet,  as  they 
came  up  to  the  new  gate  on  the  right.  It 
was  open,  and  looking  through  they  could 
see    where    the    old    gateway    had    been 

91 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

bricked.  The  rhododendrons  topped  the 
yard  wall  at  that  point,  masking  it  from 
the  lawn,  and  making  on  the  whole  an  im- 
provement of  which  anybody  but  a  former 
son  of  the  house  might  have  taken  more 
account. 

He  said  he  could  see  no  other  change. 
He  pretended  to  recognize  the  very  blinds 
that  were  down  and  flapping  in  the 
kitchen  windows  facing  west.  But  for  the 
fact  that  these  windows  were  wide  open, 
the  whole  place  seemed  as  deserted  as 
Littleford ;  but  just  past  the  windows,  and 
flush  with  them,  was  the  tradesmen's 
door,  and  the  two  trespassers  were  barely 
abreast  of  it  when  this  door  opened  and 
disgorged  a  man. 

The  man  was  at  first  sight  a  most  in- 
congruous figure  for  the  back  premises  of 
any  house,  especially  in  the  country.  He 
was   tall,   rather  stout,   very   powerfully 

92 


VOTJINTARY    SERVICE 

built  and  rather  handsome  in  his  way; 
his  top-liat  slione  hke  liis  patent-leather 
boots,  and  his  gray  cutaway  suit  hung 
well  in  front  and  was  duly  creased  as  to 
the  trousers;  yet  not  for  one  moment  was 
this  personage  in  the  picture,  in  the  sense 
in  which  Hilton  Toye  had  stepped  into  the 
Littleford  picture. 

"May  I  ask  what  you're  doing  here?" 
he  demanded  bluntly  of  the  male  intruder. 

"No  harm,  I  hope,"  replied  Cazalet, 
smiling,  much  to  his  companion's  relief. 
She  had  done  him  an  injustice,  however, 
in  dreading  an  explosion  when  they  were 
both  obviously  in  the  wrong,  and  she 
greatly  admired  the  tone  he  took  so  read- 
ily. "I  know  we've  no  business  here  what- 
ever ;  but  it  happens  to  be  my  old  home, 
and  I  only  landed  from  Australia  last 
night.  I'm  on  the  river  for  the  first  time, 
and  simply  had  to  have  a  look  round." 

93 


THE   THOUSANDTH   WOMAN 

The  other  big  man  had  looked  far  from 
propitiated  by  the  earlier  of  these  re- 
marks, but  the  closing  sentences  had 
worked  a  change. 

"Are  you  young  Mr.  Cazalet?"  he 
cried. 

"I  am,  or  rather  I  was,"  laughed  Caza- 
let, still  on  his  mettle. 

"You've  read  all  about  the  case  then, 
I  don't  mind  betting!"  exclaimed  the 
other  with  a  jerk  of  his  topper  toward  the 
house  behind  him. 

"I've  read  all  I  found  in  the  papers  last 
night  and  this  morning,  and  such  arrears 
as  I've  been  able  to  lay  my  hands  on," 
said  Cazalet.  "But,  as  I  tell  you,  my  ship 
only  got  in  from  Australia  last  night,  and 
I  came  round  all  the  way  in  her.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  English  papers  when 
we  touched  at  Genoa." 

"I  see,  I  see."   The  man  was  still  look- 

94 


A'OT.UXTARV    SRRVICE 

ing  liiin  up  and  down.  "Well,  ^\v.  Caza- 
let,  my  name's  Drinkwater,  and  I'm  from 
Scotland  Yard.  I  happen  to  be  in  charge 
of  the  case." 

"I  gue.ssed  as  much,"  said  Cazalet,  and 
this  surprised  Blanche  more  than  any- 
thing else  from  him.  Yet  nothing  about 
him  was  any  lunger  like  tlie  Sweep  of 
other  days,  or  of  any  previous  part  of 
that  very  afternoon.  And  this  was  also 
easy  to  understand  on  reflection;  for  if 
he  meant  to  stand  by  the  liapless  Scruton, 
guilty  or  not  guilty,  he  could  not  perhaps 
begin  better  than  by  getting  on  good 
terms  with  the  police.  But  his  ready  tact, 
and  in  that  case  cunning,  were  certainly 
a  revelation  to  one  who  had  known  him 
marvelously  as  boy  and  youth. 

"I  mustn't  ask  questions,"  he  continued, 
"but  I  see  you're  still  searching  for  things, 
Mr.  Drinkwater." 

95 


THE    THOUSANDTH   WOAIAN 

"Still  minding  our  own  job,"  said  Mr. 
Drinkwater  genially.  They  had  saun- 
tered on  with  him  to  the  corner  of  the 
house,  and  seen  a  bowler  hat  bobbing  in 
the  shrubbery  down  the  drive.  Cazalet 
laughed  like  a  man. 

"Well,  I  needn't  tell  you  I  know  every 
inch  of  the  old  place,"  he  said ;  "that  is, 
barring  alterations,"  as  Blanche  caught 
his  eye.  "But  I  expect  this  search  is  har- 
rowed, rather?" 

"Rather,"  said  Mr.  Drinkwater,  stand- 
ing still  in  the  drive.  He  had  also  taken 
out  a  presentation  gold  half-hunter,  suit- 
ably inscribed  in  memory  of  one  of  his 
more  bloodless  victories.  But  Cazalet 
could  always  be  obtuse,  and  now  he  re- 
fused to  look  an  inch  lower  than  the  de- 
tective-inspector's bright  brown  eyes. 

"There's  just  one  place  that's  occurred 
96 


VOLUNTARY    SKR\'irK 

to  me.  Mr.  Drinkwater,  that  perliai)s  may 

not  have  occurred  to  you." 

"Where's  that,  Mr.  Cazalet?" 

"In  the  room  where — the  room  itself." 

Mr.  Drinkwater's  long  stare  ended  in 

an  indulgent  smile.    "You  can  show  me 

if  you  like."  said  he  indifferently.    "But  T 

suppose  you  know  we've  got  the  man?" 


I 


VII 

AFTER    MICHELANGELO 

WAS  thinking  of  his  cap,"  said  Caz- 
alet,  but  only  as  they  returned  to  the 
tradesmen's  door,  and  just  as  Blanche  put 
in  her  word,  "What  about  me?" 

Mr.  Drinkwater  e3^ed  the  trim  white 
figure  standing  in  the  sun.  "The  more 
the  merrier!"  his  grim  humor  had  it.  "I 
dare  say  you'll  be  able  to  teach  us  a  thing 
or  two  as  well,  miss." 

She  could  not  help  nudging  Cazalet  in 
recognition  of  Ibis  shaft.  But  Cazalet 
did  not  look  round ;  he  had  now  set  foot 
in  his  old  home. 

It  was  all  strangely  still  and  inactive, 
as  though  domestic  animation  had  been 

98 


AFTER    MICHELANGELO 

suspended  indefinitely.  Yet  the  open 
kitchen  door  revealed  a  female  form  in 
mufti;  a  sullen  face  looked  out  of  the 
pantry  as  they  passed ;  and  through  the 
old  green  door  (only  now  it  was  a  red 
one)  they  found  another  b(jwler  hat  bent 
over  a  pink  paper  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
There  was  a  glitter  of  eyes  under  the 
bowler's  brim  as  Mr.  Drinkwater  con- 
ducted his  friends  into  the  library. 

The  library  was  a  square  room  of  re- 
spectable size,  but  very  close  and  dim 
with  the  one  French  window  closed  and 
curtained.  But  Mr.  Drinkwater  sliut  the 
door  as  well,  and  added  indescribably  to 
the  lighting  and  ntmospheric  effects  by 
switching  on  all  the  electric  lamps ;  they 
burned  sullenly  in  the  partial  daylight, 
exposed  as  thin  angry  bunches  of  red-hot 
wire  in  dusty  bulbs. 

The  electric  light  liad  been  put  in  by 

99 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

the  Cravens;  all  the  other  fixtures  in  the 
room  were  as  Cazalet  remembered  them. 
The  bookshelves  contained  different 
books,  and  now  there  were  no  busts  on 
top.  Certain  cupboards,  grained  and  var- 
nished in  Victorian  davs,  were  undeni- 
ably  improved  by  being  enameled  white. 

But  the  former  son  of  the  house  gave 
himself  no  time  to  waste  in  sentimental 
comparisons.  He  tapped  a  pair  of  ma- 
hogany doors,  like  those  of  a  wardrobe 
let  into  the  wall. 

"Have  you  looked  in  here?"  demanded 
Cazalet  in  yet  another  key.  His  air  was 
almost  authoritative  now.  Blanche  could 
not  understand  it,  but  the  experienced  Mr, 
Drinkwater  smiled  his  allowances  for  a 
young  fellow  on  his  native  heath,  after 
more  years  in  the  wilderness  than  were 
good  for  young  fellows. 

"What's  the  use  of  looking"  in  a  cigar 

100 


AFTER    MICHELANGP:L0 

cupboard?"  that  dangerous  man  of  the 
world  made  mild  inquiry. 

"Cigar  cupboard!"  echoed  Cazalct  in 
disgust.  "Did  he  really  only  use  it  for  his 
cigars: 

"A  cigar  cupboard,"  repeated  Drink- 
water,  "and  locked  up  at  the  time  it  hap- 
pened. What  was  it,  if  I  may  ask,  in 
Mr.  Cazalct's  time?" 

"I  remember!"  came  suddenly  from 
Blanche ;  but  Cazalet  only  said,  "Oh,  well, 
if  you  know  it  was  locked  there's  an  end 
of  it." 

Drinkwater  went  to  the  door  and  sum- 
moned his  subordinate.  "Jnst  fetch  that 
chap  from  the  pantry.  Tom,"  said  he;  but 
the  sullen  sufferer  from  police  rule  took 
his  time,  in  spite  of  ihem.  and  was  sharply 
rated  when  he  appeared. 

"I  thought  you  told  me  this  was  a  cigar 
cupboard?"  continued  Drinkwater,  in  the 

lOI 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

browbeating  tone  of  his  first  words  to 
Cazalet  outside. 

"So  it  is,"  said  the  man. 

"Then  where's  the  key?" 

"How  should  I  know?  /  never  kept 
it!"  cried  the  butler,  crowing  over  his  op- 
pressor for  a  change.  "He  would  keep  it 
on  his  own  bunch ;  find  his  watch,  and 
all  the  other  things  that  were  missing 
from  his  pockets  when  your  men  went 
through  'em,  and  you  may  find  his  keys, 
too!" 

Drinkwater  gave  his  man  a  double  sig- 
nal ;  the  door  slammed  on  a  petty  triumph 
for  the  servants'  hall ;  but  now  both  in- 
vaders remained  within. 

"Try  your  hand  on  it,  Tom,"  said  the 
superior  officer.  "I'm  a  free-lance  here," 
he  explained  somewhat  superfluously  to 
the  others,  as  Tom  applied  himself  to  the 
lock  in  one  mahogany  door.   "Man's  been 

1 02 


AFTER    MTCITF.LAXr.ELO 

drinking.  T  should  say.  Ilc'd  better  be 
careful,  because  I  don't  take  to  him,  drunk 
or  sober.  I'm  not  surprised  at  his  master 
not  trusting  him.  It's  just  possible  that 
the  place  zvas  open — he  might  have  been 
getting  out  his  cigars  before  dinner — but 
I  can't  say  I  think  there's  much  in  it,  ^Mr. 
Cazalet." 

It  was  open  again — broken  open — be- 
fore many  minutes;  and  certainly  there 
was  not  much  in  it,  to  be  seen,  except 
cigars.  Boxes  of  these  were  stacked  on 
what  might  have  been  meant  for  a  shal- 
low desk  (the  whole  place  was  shallow  as 
the  wardrobe  that  the  doors  suggested, 
but  lighted  high  up  at  one  end  by  a  little 
barred  window  of  its  own)  and  according 
to  Cazalet  a  desk  it  had  really  been.  His 
poor  father  ought  never  to  have  been  a 
business  man :  he  ought  to  have  been  a 
poet.    Cazalet  said  this  now  as  simply  as 

103 


TIIE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

he  had  said  it  to  Hilton  Toye  on  board 
the  Kaiser  Frit::.  Only  he  went  rather 
farther  for  the  benefit  of  the  gentlemen 
from  Scotland  Yard,  who  took  not  the 
faintest  interest  in  the  late  Mr.  Cazalet, 
beyond  poking  their  noses  into  his  dimin- 
utive sanctum  and  duly  turning  them  up 
at  what  they  saw. 

"He  used  to  complain  that  he  was  never 
left  in  peace  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays, 
which  of  course  were  his  only  quiet  times 
for  writing,"  said  the  son,  elaborating  his 
tale  with  filial  piety.  "So  once  when  I'd 
been  trying  to  die  of  scarlet  fever,  and  my 
mother  brought  me  back  from  Hastings 
after  she'd  had  me  there  some  time,  the 
old  governor  told  us  he'd  got  a  place 
where  he  could  disappear  from  the  dis- 
trict at  a  moment's  notice  and  yet  be  back 
in  another  moment  if  we  rang  the  gong. 
I  fancy  he'd  got  to  tell  her  where  it  was, 

104 


AI'TF.R  Aiiciii:L.\xr;i'.LO 

pretty  quick;  but  I  only  found  out  for 
myself  by  accident,  ^'ears  afterward,  he 
told  me  he'd  got  the  idea  from  Jean  In- 
gelow's  place  in  Italy  somewhere." 

"It's  in  Florence,"  said  Blanche,  laugh- 
ing. "I've  been  there  and  seen  it,  and  it's 
the  exact  same  thing.  But  you  mean 
Michelangelo,  Sweep!'' 

"Oh,  do  I?"  he  said  serenely.  "Well,  I 
shall  never  forget  how  I  found  out  its 
existence." 

"No  more  shall  I.  You  told  me  all 
about  it  at  the  time,  as  a  terrific  secret, 
and  I  may  tell  you  that  I've  kept  it  from 
that  day  to  this !" 

"You  would,"  he  said  simply.  "But 
think  of  having  the  nerv-e  to  pull  up  the 
governor's  lloor!  It  only  shows  what  a 
boy  will  do.  I  wonder  if  the  hole's  there 
still!" 

Now  all  the  time  the  planetary  detec- 

105 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

tive  had  been  watching  his  satelHte  en- 
gaged in  an  attempt  to  render  the  damage 
done  to  the  mahogany  doors  a  little  less 
conspicuous.  Neither  appeared  to  be  tak- 
ing any  further  interest  in  the  cigar  cup- 
board, or  paying  the  slightest  attention  to 
Cazalet's  reminiscences.  But  Mr.  Drink- 
water  happened  to  have  heard  every 
word,  and  in  the  last  sentence  there  was 
one  that  caused  him  to  prick  up  his  expert 
ears  instinctively. 

"What's  that  about  a  hole?"  said  he, 
turning  round. 

'T  was  reminding  Miss  Macnair  how 
the  place  first  came  to  be — " 

"Yes,  yes.  But  what  about  some  hole 
in  the  floor?" 

'T  made  one  myself  with  one  of  those 
knives  that  contain  all  sorts  of  things, 
including  a  saw.  It  was  one  Saturday 
afternoon    in    the    summer    holidays.     I 

1 06 


AFTER    MICHELANGELO 

came  in  here  from  the  garden  as  my  fa- 
ther went  out  by  that  door  into  the  hall, 
leaving  one  of  these  mahogany  doors  open 
by  mistake.  It  was  the  chance  of  my  life; 
in  I  slipped  to  have  a  look.  He  came  back 
for  something,  saw  the  very  door  you've 
broken  standing  ajar,  and  shut  it  without 
lixjking  in.  So  there  I  was  in  a  nice  old 
trap!  I  simply  daren't  call  out  and  give 
myself  away.  There  was  a  bit  of  loose 
oilcloth  on  the  floor — " 

"There  is  still,"  said  the  satellite,  paus- 
ing in  his  task. 

'T  moved  the  oilcloth,  in  the  end; 
howked  up  one  end  of  the  board  (luckily 
they  weren't  groove  and  tongue),  sawed 
through  the  next  one  to  it,  had  it  up,  too, 
and  got  through  into  the  foundations, 
leaving  everything  much  as  I  had  found 
it.  The  place  is  so  small  that  the  oilcloth 
was  obliged  to  fall  in  place  if  it  fell  any- 

107 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

where.  But  I  had  plenty  of  time,  because 
my  people  had  gone  in  to  dinner." 

"You  ought  to  have  been  a  burglar, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Drinkwater  ironically.  "So 
you  covered  up  a  sin  with  a  crime,  like 
half  the  gentlemen  who  go  through  my 
hands  for  the  first  and  last  time!  But 
how  did  you  get  out  of  the  foundations?" 

"Oh,  that  was  as  easy  as  pie;  I'd  often 
explored  them.  Do  you  remember  the 
row  I  got  into,  Blanche,  for  taking  you 
with  me  once  and  simply  ruining  your 
frock?" 

"I  remember  the  frock!"  said  Blanche. 

It  was  her  last  contribution  to  the  con- 
versation; immediate  developments  not 
only  put  an  end  to  the  further  exchange 
of  ancient  memories,  but  rendered  it  pres- 
ently impossible  by  removing  Cazalet 
from  the  scene  with  tlie  two  detectives. 
Almost  without  warning,  as  in  the  harle- 

io8 


AFTER    MTrTIF.T.AXGF.T.O 

quinade  of  which  ihcy  might  have  hcen 
the  rascal  heroes,  all  three  disappeared 
down  the  makeshift  trap-door  cut  by  one 
of  them  as  a  schoolboy  in  his  father's 
floor;  and  Blanche  foniul  herself  in  sole 
possession  of  the  stage,  a  very  envious 
Columbine,  indeed ! 

She  hardly  even  knew  how  it  happened. 
The  satellite  must  have  popped  back  into 
the  Michelangelo  cigar  cupboard.  He 
might  have  called  to  Air.  Drinkwater,  Ijut 
the  only  summons  that  Blanche  could  re- 
member hearing  was  almost  a  sharp  one 
from  Drinkwater  to  Cazalet.  A  lot  of 
whispering  followed  in  the  little  place ;  it 
was  so  small  that  she  never  saw  the  hole 
until  it  had  engulfed  two  of  the  trio;  the 
third  explorer,  Air.  Drinkwater  himself, 
had  very  courteously  turned  her  out  of  the 
library  before  following  the  others.  And 
he  had  said  so  very  little  beforehand   fi>r 

109 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

her  to  hear,  and  so  quickly  prevented  Caz- 
alet  from  saying  anything  at  all,  that  she 
simply  could  not  think  what  any  of  them 
were  doing  under  the  floor. 

Under  her  very  feet  she  heard  them 
moving  as  she  waited  a  bit  in  the  hall ; 
then  she  left  the  house  by  way  of  the 
servants'  quarters,  of  course  without  hold- 
ing any  communication  with  those  muti- 
neers, and  only  indignant  that  Mr.  Drink- 
water  should  have  requested  her  not  to 
do  so. 

It  was  a  long  half-hour  that  followed 
for  Blanche  Macnair,  but  she  passed  it 
characteristically,  and  not  in  morbid  prob- 
ings  of  the  many  changes  that  had  come 
over  one  young  man  in  less  than  the 
course  of  a  summer's  day.  He  was  ex- 
cited at  getting  back,  he  had  stumbled 
into  a  still  more  exciting  situation,  so  no 
wonder  he   was  one  thing  one  moment 

no 


AFTJ:K    Mirill'.LANGELO 

and  another  the  next.  That  was  all  that 
Blanche  allowed  herself  to  think  of  Sweep 
Cazalet — just  then. 

She  turned  her  wholesome  mind  to 
dogs,  which  in  some  ways  she  knew  better 
and  trusted  further  than  men.  She  had, 
of  course,  a  dog  of  her  own,  but  it  haj)- 
pened  to  be  on  a  visit  to  the  doctor  or  no 
doubt  it  would  have  been  in  the  way  all 
the  afternoon.  Rut  there  was  a  dog  at 
Uplands,  and  as  yet  she  had  seen  nothing 
of  him;  he  lived  in  a  large  kennel  in  the 
yard,  for  he  was  a  large  dog  and  rather 
friendless.  But  Blanche  knew  him  by 
sight,  and  had  felt  always  sorry  for  him. 

The  large  kennel  was  just  outside  the 
back  door,  which  was  at  the  top  of  the 
cellar  steps  and  at  the  bottom  of  two  or 
three  leading  into  the  scullery ;  but 
Blanche,  of  course,  went  round  by  the 
garden.   She  found  the  poor  old  dog  quite 

III 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

disconsolate  in  a  more  canine  kennel  in  a 
corner  of  the  one  that  was  really  worthy 
of  the  more  formidable  carnivora.  There 
was  every  sign  of  his  being  treated  as  the 
dangerous  dog  that  Blanche,  indeed,  had 
heard  he  was;  the  outer  bars  were  fur- 
ther protected  by  wire  netting,  which 
stretched  like  a  canopy  over  the  whole 
cage;  but  Blanche  let  herself  in  with  as 
little  hesitation  as  she  proceeded  to  beard 
the  poor  brute  in  his  inner  lair.  And  he 
never  even  barked  at  her;  he  just  lay 
whimpering  with  his  tearful  nose  between 
his  two  front  paws,  as  though  his  dead 
master  had  not  left  him  to  the  servants  all 
his  life. 

Blanche  coaxed  and  petted  him  until 
she  almost  wept  herself;  then  suddenly 
and  without  warning  the  dog  showed  his 
worst  side.  Out  he  leaped  from  wooden 
sanctuary,  almost  knocking  her  down,  and 

112 


AFTER    MICHELANGELO 

barking  horribly,  but  not  at  Blanche.  She 
followed  his  infuriated  eyes;  and  the  back 
doorway  framed  a  dusty  and  grimy  figure, 
just  climbing  into  full  length  on  the  cel- 
lar stairs,  which  Blanche  had  some  diffi- 
culty in  identifying  with  that  of  Cazalet. 

''Well,  you  really  arc  a  Sweep!"  she 
cried  when  she  had  slipped  out  just  in 
time,  and  tlic  now  savage  dog  was  still 
butting  and  clawing  at  his  bars.  "How 
did  you  come  out,  and  where  are  the 
enemy  ?" 

"The  old  way,"  he  answered.  'T  left 
them  down  there." 

"And  what  did  you  find  ?" 

"I'll  tell  you  later.  I  can't  hear  my 
voice  for  that  infernal  dog." 

The  dreadful  barking  followed  them 
out  of  the  yard,  and  rtnnid  to  the  right, 
past  the  tradesmen's  door,  to  the  verge 
of  the  drive.    Here  they  met  an  elderly 

113 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

man  in  a  tremendous  hurry — an  unstable 
dotard  who  instantly  abandoned  whatever 
purpose  he  had  formed,  and  came  to  an- 
chor in  front  of  tliem  with  rheumy  eyes 
and  twitching  wrinkles. 

"Why,  if  that  isn't  Miss  Blanche!"  he 
quavered.  "Do  you  hear  our  Roy,  miss? 
I  ha'n't  heard  that  go  on  like  that  since  the 
night  that  happened !" 

Then  Cazalet  introduced  himself  to  the 
old  gardener  whom  he  had  known  all  his 
life;  and  by  rights  the  man  should  have 
wept  outright,  or  else  emitted  a  rustic 
epigram  laden  with  wise  humor.  But  old 
Savage  hailed  from  silly  Suffolk,  and  all 
his  life  he  had  belied  his  surname,  but 
never  the  alliterative  libel  on  his  native 
country.  He  took  the  wanderer's  return 
very  much  as  a  matter  of  course,  very 
much  as  though  he  had  never  been  away 
at  all,  and  was  demonstrative  onlv  in  his 

114 


AFTER    MICHELANGELO 

further  use  of  the  East  AngHan  pronoun. 

"That's  a  long  time  since  we  fared  to 
see  you,  AIus'  Walter."  said  he ;  "that's  a 
right  long  time!  And  now  here's  a  nice 
kettle  of  fish  for  you  to  find!  But  I  seen 
the  man,  IMus'  Walter,  and  we'll  bring 
that  home  to  him,  never  you  fear!" 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  saw  him?" 
asked  Blanche,  already  under  Cazalet's 
influence  on  this  point. 

Savage  looked  cautiously  toward  the 
house  before  replying;  then  he  lowered 
his  voice  dramatically.  "Sure,  Miss 
Blanche.  Why,  I  see  him  that  night  as 
plain  as  I  fare  to  see  Mus'  Walter  now !" 

"I  should  have  thought  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  anybody  properly,"  said  Blanche, 
and  Cazalet  nodded  vigorously  to  himself. 

"Dark,  Miss  Blanche?  Why,  that  was 
broad  daylight,  and  if  that  wasn't  there 
were  the  lodge  lights  on  to  see  him  by!" 

ii.S 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

His  stage  voice  fell  a  sepulchral  semitone. 
"But  I  see  him  again  at  the  station  this 
very  afternoon,  I  did!  I  promised  not  to 
talk  about  that — you'll  keep  that  a  secret 
if  I  tell  'e  somethin'? — ^but  I  picked  him 
out  of  half  a  dozen  at  the  first  time  of 
askin'!" 

Savage  said  this  with  a  pleased  and 
vacuous  grin,  looking  Cazalet  full  in  the 
face;  his  rheumy  eyes  were  red  as  the 
sunset  they  faced;  and  Cazalet  drew  a 
deep  breath  as  Blanche  and  he  turned 
back  toward  the  river. 

*Tirst  time  of  prompting,  I  expect!" 
he  whispered.  "But  there's  hope  if  Sav- 
age is  their  strongest  witness." 

"Only  listen  to  that  dog,"  said  Blanche, 
as  they  passed  the  yard. 


VIII 


FINGER-PRINTS 


HILTON  TOYE  was  the  kind  of 
American  who  knew  London  as 
well  as  most  Londoners,  and  some  other 
capitals  a  good  deal  better  than  their  re- 
spective citizens  of  corresponding  intelli- 
gence. His  travels  were  mysteriously  but 
enviably  interwoven  with  business ;  he  had 
an  air  of  enjoying  himself,  and  at  the 
same  time  making  money  to  pay  for  his 
enjojanent,  wherever  he  went.  His  hotel 
days  were  much  the  same  all  over  Fai- 
rope :  many  appointments,  but  abundant 
leisure.  As,  however,  he  never  spoke 
about  his  own  affairs  unless  they  were 
also  those  of  the  listener — and   not  al- 

117 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

ways  then — half  his  acquaintances  had  no 
idea  how  he  made  his  money,  and  the 
other  half  wondered  how  he  spent  his 
time.  Of  his  mere  interests,  which  were 
many,  Toye  made  no  such  secret;  but  it 
was  quite  impossible  to  deduce  a  main  in- 
dustry from  the  by-products  of  his  level- 
headed versatility. 

Criminology,  for  example,  was  an  ob- 
vious by-product;  it  was  no  morbid  taste 
in  Hilton  Toye,  but  a  scientific  hobby 
that  appealed  to  his  mental  subtlety.  And 
subtle  he  was,  yet  with  strange  simplici- 
ties; grave  and  dignified,  yet  addicted  to 
the  expressive  phraseology  of  his  less  en- 
lightened countrymen;  naturally  sincere, 
and  yet  always  capable  of  some  ingenuous 
duplicity. 

The  appeal  of  a  Blanche  Macnair  to 
such  a  soul  needs  no  analysis.  She  had 
struck    through    all    complexities    to    the 

ii8 


FINGER-PRINTS 

core,  such  as  it  was  or  as  she  might  make 
it.  As  yet  she  could  only  admire  the  char- 
acter the  man  had  shown,  though  it  had 
upset  her  n(tnc  the  less.  At  Engelbcrg  he 
had  proposed  to  her  "inside  of  two 
weeks,"  as  he  had  admitted  without  com- 
punction at  the  time.  It  had  taken  him, 
he  said,  about  two  minutes  to  make  up  his 
mind ;  but  the  following  summer  he  had 
laid  more  deliberate  siege,  in  accordance 
with  some  old  idea  that  she  had  let  fall  to 
soften  her  first  refusal.  The  result  had 
been  the  same,  only  more  explicit  on  both 
sides.  She  had  denied  him  the  least  par- 
ticle of  hope,  and  he  had  warned  her  that 
she  had  not  heard  the  last  of  him  by  any 
means,  and  never  would  till  she  married 
another  man.  This  had  incensed  her  at 
the  time,  but  a  great  deal  less  on  subse- 
quent reflection ;  and  such  was  the  posi- 
tion between  that  pair   when  Toye  and 

119 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

Cazalet  landed  in  England  from  the  same 
steamer. 

On  this  second  day  ashore,  as  Cazalet 
sat  over  a  late  breakfast  in  Jermyn  Street, 
Toye  sent  in  his  card  and  was  permitted 
to  follow  it,  rather  to  his  surprise.  He 
found  his  man  frankly  divided  between 
kidneys-and-bacon  and  the  morning  pa- 
per, but  in  a  hearty  mood,  indicative  of 
amends  for  his  great  heat  in  yesterday's 
argument.  A  plainer  indication  was  the 
downright  yet  sunny  manner  in  which 
Cazalet  at  once  returned  to  the  conten- 
tious topic. 

''Well,  my  dear  Toye,  what  do  you 
think  of  it  now?" 

"I  was  going  to  ask  you  what  you 
thought,  but  I  guess  I  can  see  from  your 
face." 

"I  think  the  police  are  rotters  for  not 
setting  him  free  last  night !" 

I20 


"What  dv  30U  think  of  it  now?" 


FINGER-PRINTS 

"Scruton  ?" 

"Yes.  Of  course,  the  case'll  break  down 
when  it  comes  on  next  week,  but  they 
oughtn't  to  wait  for  that.  They've  no 
right  to  detain  a  man  in  custody  when  the 
bottom's  out  of  their  case  already." 

"But — but  the  papers  claim  they've 
found  the  very  things  they  were  search- 
ing for."  Toye  looked  nonplused,  as  well 
he  might,  by  an  apparently  perverse  jubi- 
lation over  such  intelligence. 

"They  haven't  found  the  missing  cap !'' 
crowed  Cazalet.  "What  tliey  have  found 
is  Craven's  watch  and  keys,  and  the  sil- 
ver-mounted truncheon  that  killed  him. 
But  they  found  them  in  a  place  where 
they  couldn't  possibly  have  been  put  by 
the  man  identified  as  Scruton !" 

"Say,  where  was  that?"  asked  Toye 
with  great  interest,  "My  paper  only  says 
the  things  were  found,  not  where." 

121 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"No  more  does  mine,  but  I  can  tell  you, 
because  I  helped  to  find  'em." 

"You  don't  say!" 

"You'll  never  grasp  where,"  continued 
Cazalet.  "In  the  foundations  under  the 
house!" 

Details  followed  in  all  fulness;  the  lis- 
tener might  have  had  a  part  in  the  Up- 
lands act  of  yesterday's  drama,  might 
have  played  in  the  library  scene  with  his 
adored  Miss  Blanche,  so  vividly  was  every 
minute  of  that  crowded  hour  brought 
home  to  him.  He  also  had  seen  the  orig- 
inal writing-cupboard  in  Michelangelo's 
old  Florentine  house;  he  remembered  it 
perfectly,  and  said  that  he  could  see  the 
replica,  with  Its  shelf  of  a  desk  stacked 
with  cigars,  and  the  hole  in  its  floor.  He 
was  not  so  sure  that  he  had  any  very 
definite  conception  of  the  foundations  of 
an  English  house. 

122 


FINGER-PRINTS 

"Ours  were  like  ever  so  many  little 
tiny  rooms,"  said  Cazalet,  "where  I 
couldn't  stand  nearly  upright  even  as  a 
small  boy  without  giving  my  head  a  crack 
against  the  ground  floors.  They  led  into 
one  another  by  a  lot  of  little  manholes — • 
tight  fits  even  for  a  buy,  but  nearly  fatal 
to  the  boss  policeman  yesterday!  I  used 
to  get  in  through  one  with  a  door,  at  the 
back  of  a  slab  in  the  cellars  where  they 
used  to  keep  empty  bottles ;  they  keep  'em 
there  still,  because  that's  how  I  led  my 
party  out  last  night," 

Cazalet's  little  gift  of  description  was 
not  ordered  by  an  equal  sense  of  selec- 
tion. Hilton  Toye,  edging  in  his  word 
in  a  pause  for  a  gulp  of  coffee,  said  he 
guessed  he  visualized — but  just  where  had 
those  missing  things  been  found? 

"Three  or  four  compartments  from  the 
first  one  under  the  library,"  said  Cazalet. 

1^3 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"Did  you  find  them?" 

"Well,  I  kicked  against  the  truncheon, 
but  Drinkwater  dug  it  up.  The  watch  and 
keys  were  with  it." 

"Say,  were  they  buried?" 

"Only  in  the  loose  rubble  and  brick- 
dusty  stuff  that  you  get  in  foundations." 

"Say,  that's  bad !  That  murderer  must 
have  known  something,  or  else  it's  a  bully 
fluke  in  his  favor." 

"I  don't  follow  you,  Toye." 

"I'm  thinking  of  finger-prints.  If  he'd 
just've  laid  those  things  right  down,  he'd 
have  left  the  print  of  his  hand  as  large  as 
life  for  Scotland  Yard." 

"The  devil  he  would!"  exclaimed  Caz- 
alet.  "I  wish  you'd  explain,"  he  added; 
"remember  I'm  a  wild  man  from  the 
woods,  and  only  know  of  these  things  by 
the  vaguest  kind  of  hearsay  and  stray 
paragraphs  in  the  papers.    I  never  knew 

124 


FINGER-PRINTS 

you  could  leave  your  mark  so  easily  as  all 
that." 

Toye  took  tlie  breakfast  menu  and 
placed  it  face  downward  on  the  tablecloth. 
"Lay  your  hand  on  that,  palm  down,"  he 
said,  "and  don't  move  it  for  a  minute." 

Cazalet  looked  at  him  a  moment  before 
complying;  then  his  fine,  shapely,  sun- 
burnt hand  lay  sLill  as  plaster  under  their 
eyes  until  Toye  told  him  he  might  take  it 
up.  Of  course  there  was  no  mark  what- 
ever, and  Cazalet  laughed. 

"You  should  have  caught  me  when  I 
came  up  from  those  foundations,  not 
fresh  from  my  tub!"  said  he. 

"You  wait,"  replied  Hilton  Toye,  tak- 
ing the  menu  gingerly  by  the  edge,  and 
putting  it  out  of  harm's  way  in  the  empty 
toast-rack.  "You  can't  see  anything  now, 
but  if  you  come  round  to  the  Savoy  I'll 
show  you  something.'' 

125 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"What?" 

"Your  prints,  sir!  I  don't  say  I'm 
Scotland  Yard  at  the  game,  but  I  can  do 
it  well  enough  to  show  you  how  it's  done. 
You  haven't  left  your  mark  upon  the  pa- 
per, but  I  guess  you've  left  the  sweat  of 
your  hand;  if  I  snow  a  little  French  chalk 
over  it,  the  chalk'll  stick  where  your  hand 
did,  and  blow  off  easily  everywhere  else. 
The  rest's  as  simple  as  all  big  things.  It's 
hanged  a  few  folks  already,  but  I  judge 
it  doesn't  have  much  chance  with  things 
that  have  lain  buried  in  brick-dust.  Say, 
come  round  to  lunch  and  I'll  have  your 
prints  ready  for  you.  I'd  like  awfully  to 
show  you  how  it's  done.  It  w^ould  really 
be  a  great  pleasure." 

Cazalet  excused  himself  with  decision. 
He  had  a  full  morning  in  front  of  him. 
He  was  going  to  see  Miss  Macnair's 
brother,  son  of  the  late  head  of  his  fa- 
ther's old  firm  of  solicitors,  and  now  one 

126 


FINGER-rRINTS 

of  the  partners,  to  get  them  either  to  take 
up  Scruton's  case  themseh^es,  or  else  to 
reconinieiid  a  firm  perhaps  more  accus- 
tomed to  criminal  practise.  Cazalet  was 
always  apt  to  be  elaborate  in  the  first  per- 
son singular,  either  in  the  past  or  in  the 
future  tense;  but  he  was  more  so  than 
usual  in  explaining  his  considered  inten- 
tions in  this  matter  that  lay  so  very  near 
his  heart. 

"Going  to  see  Scruton,  too?"  said 
Toye. 

"Not  necessarily,"  was  the  short  reply. 
But  it  also  was  elaborated  by  Cazalet  on 
a  moment's  consideration.  The  fact  was 
that  he  wanted  first  to  know  if  it  were 
not  possible,  by  the  intervention  of  a 
really  influential  lawyer,  to  obtain  the 
prisoner's  immediate  release,  at  any  rate 
on  bail.  If  impossible,  he  might  hesitate 
to  force  himself  on  Scruton  in  the  prison, 
but  he  would  see. 

127 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"It's  a  perfect  scandal  that  he  should 
be  there  at  all,"  said  Cazalet,  as  he  rose 
first  and  ushered  Toye  out  into  the  lounge. 
"Only  think:  our  old  gardener  saw  him 
run  out  of  the  drive  at  half  past  seven, 
when  the  gong  went,  when  the  real  mur- 
derer must  have  been  shivering  in  the 
Michelangelo  cupboard,  wondering  how 
the  devil  he  was  ever  going  to  get  out 
again." 

"Then  you  think  old  man  Craven — beg- 
ging his  poor  pardon — was  getting  out 
some  cigars  when  the  man,  w^ioever  he 
was,  came  in  and  knocked  him  on  the 
head?" 

Cazalet  nodded  vigorously.  "That's  the 
likeliest  thing  of  all !"  he  cried.  "Then 
the  gong  went — there  may  even  have 
come  a  knock  at  the  door — and  there  was 
that  cupboard  standing  open  at  his  el- 
bow." 

128 


FINGER-rRINTS 

"With  a  hole  in  the  floor  that  might 
have  been  made  for  him?" 

"As  it  happens,  yes;  he'd  search  every 
inch  Hke  a  rat  in  a  trap,  you  see;  and 
there  it  was  as  I'd  left  it  twenty  years 
before." 

"Well,  it's  a  wonderful  yarn!''  ex- 
claimed Hilton  Toye,  and  he  lighted  the 
cigar  that  Cazalet  had  given  him. 

"I  think  it  may  be  thought  one  if  the 
police  ever  own  how  they  made  their 
find."  agreed  Cazalet,  laughing  and  look- 
ing at  his  watch.  Toye  had  never  heard 
him  laugh  so  often.  "By  the  way.  Drink- 
water  doesn't  want  any  of  all  this  to 
come  out  until  he's  dragged  his  man  be- 
fore the  beak  again." 

"Which  you  mean  to  prevent?" 

"If  only  I  can!  I  more  or  less  prom- 
ised not  to  talk,  however,  and  I'm  sure 
you  won't.    You  knew  so  much  already, 

I2g 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

you  may  just  as  well  know  the  rest  this 
week  as  well  as  next,  if  you  don't  mind 
keeping  it  to  yourself." 

Nobody  could  have  minded  this  par- 
ticular embargo  less  than  Hilton  Toye; 
and  in  nothing  was  he  less  like  Cazalet, 
who  even  now  had  the  half-regretful  and 
self-excusing  air  of  the  impulsive  person 
who  has  talked  too  freely  and  discovered 
it  too  late.  But  he  had  been  perfectly  de- 
lightful to  Hilton  Toye,  almost  too  ap- 
preciative, if  anything,  and  now  very  anx- 
ious to  give  him  a  lift  in  his  taxi.  Toye, 
however,  had  shopping  to  do  in  the  very 
street  that  they  were  in,  and  he  saw  Caz- 
alet off  with  a  smile  that  was  as  yet 
merely  puzzled,  and  not  unfriendly  until 
he  had  time  to  recall  Miss  Blanche's  part 
in  the  strange  affair  of  the  previous  after- 
noon. 

Say,  weren't  they  rather  intimate, 
130 


FINGER-PRINTS 

those  two,  even  if  they  had  known  each 
other  all  their  hves?  He  liad  it  from 
Blanche  (with  her  second  refusal;  that 
she  was  not,  and  never  had  been,  en- 
gaged. And  a  fellow  who  only  wrote  to 
her  once  in  a  year — still,  they  must  have 
been  darned  intimate,  and  this  funny  af- 
fair would  bring  them  together  again 
quicker  than  anything. 

Say,  what  a  funny  affair  it  was  when 
you  came  to  think  of  it!  Funny  all 
through,  it  now  struck  Toye;  beginning 
on  board  ship  with  that  dream  of  Caza- 
let's  about  the  murdered  man,  leading  to 
all  that  talk  of  the  old  grievance  against 
him,  and  culminating  in  his  actually  find- 
ing the  implements  of  the  crime  in  his  in- 
spired efforts  to  save  the  man  of  whose 
innocence  he  was  so  positive.  Say,  if  that 
Cazalet  had  not  been  on  his  way  home 
from  Australia  at  the  time! 

131 


TPIE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

Like  many  deliberate  speakers,  Toye 
thought  like  lightning,  and  had  reached 
this  point  before  he  was  a  hundred  yards 
from  the  hotel;  then  he  thought  of  some- 
ting  else,  and  retraced  his  steps.  He  re- 
traced them  even  to  the  table  at  which  he 
had  sat  with  Cazalet  not  very  many  min- 
utes ago ;  the  waiter  was  only  now  begin- 
ning to  clear  away. 

"Say,  vvaiter,  what  have  you  done  with 
the  menu  that  was  in  that  toast-rack? 
There  was  something  on  it  that  we  rather 
wanted  to  keep." 

"I  thought  there  was,  sir,"  said  the 
English  waiter  at  that  admirable  hotel. 
Toye,  however,  prepared  to  talk  to  him 
like  an  American  uncle  of  Dutch  extrac- 
tion. 

"You  thought  that,  and  you  took  it 
away?" 

"Not  at  all,  sir.  I  'appened  to  observe 
132 


FINGER-PRINTS 

the  other  gentleman  put  the  menu  in  his 
pocket,  behind  your  back  as  you  were  get- 
ting up,  because  I  passed  a  remark  about 
it  to  the  head  waiter  at  the  time!" 


IX 

FAIR   WARNING 

IT  was  much  more  than  a  map  of  the 
metropoHs  that  Toye  carried  in  his  able 
head.  He  knew  the  right  places  for  the 
right  things,  from  his  tailor's  at  one  end 
of  Jermyn  Street  to  his  hatter's  at  the 
other,  and  from  the  man  for  collars  and 
dress  shirts,  in  another  of  St.  James',  to 
the  only  man  for  soft  shirts,  on  Piccadilly. 
Hilton  Toye  visited  them  all  in  turn  this 
fine  September  morning,  and  found  the 
select  team  agreeably  disengaged,  readier 
than  ever  to  suit  him.  Then  he  gazed 
critically  at  his  boots.  He  was  not  so  dead 
sure  that  he  had  struck  the  only  man  for 
boots.  There  had  been  a  young  fellow 
aboard  the  Kaiser  Frita,  quite  a  little  bit 

134 


FAIR    WARNING 

of  a  military  blood,  wlio  liad  come  ashore 
in  a  pair  of  cloth  tops  lliat  had  rather 
unsettled  Mr.  Toye's  mind  just  on  that 
one  point. 

He  thought  of  this  young  fellow  when 
he  was  through  with  the  soft-shirt  man 
on  Piccadilly.  They  had  diced  for  a  drink 
or  two  in  the  smoking-room,  and  Captain 
Aylmer  had  said  he  would  like  to  have 
Toye  see  his  club  any  time  he  was  passing 
and  cared  to  look  in  for  lunch.  He  had 
said  so  as  though  he  would  like  it  a  great 
deal,  and  suddenly  Toye  had  a  mind  to 
take  him  at  his  word  right  now.  The  idea 
began  with  those  boots  with  cloth  tops, 
but  that  was  not  all  there  was  to  it ;  there 
was  something  else  that  had  been  at  the 
back  of  Toye's  mind  all  morning,  and  now 
took  charge  in  fr(jnt. 

Aylmer  had  talked  some  about  a  job  in 
the  war  office  tliat  enabled  him  to  lunch 

135 


THE   TT-IOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

daily  at  the  Rag;  but  what  his  job  had 
been  aboard  a  German  steamer  Toye  did 
not  know  and  was  not  the  man  to  inquire. 
It  was  no  business  of  his,  anyway.  Refer- 
ence to  a  card,  traded  for  his  own  in 
Southampton  Water,  and  duly  filed  in  his 
cigarette-case,  reminded  him  of  the  Rag's 
proper  style  and  title.  And  there  he  was 
eventually  entertained  to  a  sound,  work- 
manlike, rather  expeditious  meal. 

"Say,  did  you  see  the  cemetery  at  Ge- 
noa?" suddenly  inquired  the  visitor  on 
their  way  back  through  the  hall.  A  mar- 
tial bust  had  been  admired  extravagantly 
before  the  question. 

"Never  want  to  see  it  again,  or  Genoa 
either,"  said  Captain  Aylmer.  "The 
smoking-room's  this  v/ay." 

"I  judge  you  didn't  care  a  lot  about  the 
city?"  pursued  Toye  as  they  found  a 
corner. 

136 


FAIR    WARXliVG 

"Genoa?  Oh,  T  liked  it  all  right,  but 
you  get  fed  up  in  a  couple  of  days  neither 
ashore  nor  afloat.  It's  a  bit  amphibious. 
Of  course  you  can  go  to  a  hotel,  if  you 
like ;  but  not  if  you're  only  a  poor  British 
soldier." 

"Did  you  say  you  were  there  two 
days?"  Toye  was  cutting  his  cigar  as 
though  it  were  a  corn. 

"Two  whole  days,  and  we'd  had  a  night 
in  the  Bay  of  Naples  just  before." 

"Is  that  so?  I  only  came  aboard  at 
Genoa.  I  guess  I  was  wise,"  added  Toye, 
as  though  he  was  thinking  of  something 
else.  There  was  no  sort  of  feeling  in  his 
voice,  but  he  was  sucking  his  left  thumb. 

"I  say,  you've  cut  yourself!" 

"I  guess  it's  nothing.  Knife  too  sharp; 
please  don't  worry,  Captain  Aylmer.  I 
was  going  to  say  I  only  got  on  at  Genoa, 
and  they  couldn't  give  me  a  room  to  my- 

137 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

self.  I  had  to  go  in  with  Cazalet;  that's 
how  I  saw  so  much  of  him." 

It  was  To3^e's  third  separate  and  inde- 
pendent attempt  to  introduce  the  name 
and  fame  of  Cazalet  as  a  natural  topic  of 
conversation.  Twice  his  host  had  listened 
with  adamantine  politeness;  this  time  he 
was  enjoying  quite  the  second-best  liqueur 
brandy  to  be  had  at  the  Rag;  and  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"You  were  rather  impressed  with  him, 
weren't  you?"  said  Captain  Aylmer. 
"Well,  frankly,  I  wasn't,  but  it  may  have 
been  my  fault.  It  does  rather  warp  one's 
judgment  to  be  shot  out  to  Aden  on  a 
potty  job  at  this  time  o'  year." 

So  that  was  where  he  had  been?  Yes, 
and  by  Jove  he  had  to  see  a  man  about  it 
all  at  three  o'clock. 

"One  of  the  nuts,"  explained  Captain 
Aylmer,  keeping  his  chair  with  fine  re- 

138 


FAIR    WARNING 

straint.  Toye  rose  with  finer  alacrity.  "I 
hope  you  won't  think  me  rude,"  said  the 
captain,  "but  I'm  afraid  I  really  mustn't 
keep  him  waiting." 

Toye  said  the  proper  things  all  the  way 
to  the  hat-stand,  and  there  took  frontal 
measures  as  a  last  resort.  "I  was  only  go- 
ing to  ask  you  one  thing  about  Mr.  Caza- 
let,"  he  said,  "and  I  guess  I've  a  reason 
for  asking,  though  there's  no  time  to  state 
it  now.  What  did  you  think  of  him,  Cap- 
tain Aylmer,  on  the  whole?" 

"Ah,  there  you  have  me.  'On  the 
whole'  is  just  the  difficulty,"  said  Aylmer, 
answering  the  straight  question  readily 
enough.  "I  thouglit  he  was  a  very  good 
chap  as  far  as  Naples,  but  after  Genoa  he 
was  another  being.  I've  sometimes  won- 
dered what  happened  in  his  three  or  four 
days  ashore." 

"Three  or  foitr,  did  you  say?" 
139 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

And  at  the  last  moment  Toye  would 
have  played  Wedding  Guest  to  Aylmer's 
Ancient  Mariner. 

"Yes;  you  see,  he  knew  these  German 
boats  waste  a  couple  of  days  at  Genoa,  so 
he  landed  at  Naples  and  did  his  Italy  over- 
land. Rather  a  good  idea,  I  thought,  espe- 
cially as  he  said  he  had  friends  in  Rome ; 
but  we  never  heard  of  'em  beforehand, 
and  I  should  have  let  the  whole  thing 
strike  me  a  bit  sooner  if  I'd  been  Cazalet. 
Soon  enough  to  take  a  hand-bag  and  a 
tooth-brush,  eh?  And  I  don't  think  I 
should  have  run  it  quite  so  fine  at  Genoa, 
either.  But  there  are  rum  birds  in  this 
world,  and  always  will  be!" 

Toye  felt  one  himself  as  he  picked  his 
way  through  St.  James'  Square.  If  it 
had  not  been  just  after  lunch,  he  would 
have  gone  straight  and  had  a  cocktail,  for 
of  course  he  knew  the  only  place  for  them. 

140 


FAIR    WARNING 

What  he  did  was  to  shie  round  out  of  the 
square,  and  to  obtain  for  tlie  asking,  at 
another  old  haunt,  un  Cockspur  Street, 
the  latest  httle  time-table  of  continental 
trains.  This  he  carried,  not  on  foot  but  in 
a  taxi,  to  the  Savoy  Hotel,  where  it  kept 
him  busy  in  his  own  room  for  the  best 
part  of  another  hour.  But  by  that  time 
Hilton  Toye  looked  more  than  an  hour 
older  than  on  sitting  down  at  his  writing- 
table  with  pencil,  paper  and  the  little  book 
of  trains;  he  looked  horrified,  be  looked 
distressed,  and  yet  he  looked  crafty,  deter- 
mined and  immensely  alive.  He  pro- 
ceeded, however,  to  take  some  of  the  life 
out  of  himself,  and  to  add  still  more  to 
his  apparent  age,  by  repairing  for  more 
inward  light  and  leading  to  a  Turkish 
bath. 

Now  the  only  Turkish  bath,  according 
to    Hilton    Toye's    somewhat    exclusive 

141 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

code,  was  not  even  a  hundred  yards  from 
Cazalet's  hotel;  and  there  the  visitor  of 
the  morning  again  presented  himself  be- 
fore the  afternoon ;  now  merely  a  little 
worn,  as  a  man  will  look  after  losing  a 
stone  an  hour  on  a  warm  afternoon,  and 
a  bit  blue  again  about  the  chin,  which  of 
course  looked  a  little  deeper  and  stronger 
on  that  account. 

Cazalet  was  not  in ;  his  friend  would 
wait,  and  in  fact  waited  over  an  hour  in 
the  little  lounge.  An  evening  paper  was 
offered  to  him ;  he  took  it  listlessly, 
scarcely  looked  at  it  at  first,  then  tore  it 
in  his  anxiety  to  find  something  he  had 
quite  forgotten — from  the  newspaper  end. 
But  he  was  waiting  as  stoically  as  before 
when  Cazalet  arrived  in  tremendous 
spirits. 

"Stop  and  dine!"  he  cried  out  at  once. 

"Sorry  I  can't;  got  to  go  and  see  some- 
body," said  Hilton  Toye. 

142 


FAIR    WARNING  , 

"Then  yoii  must  have  a  drink." 
"No,  I  thank  you,"  said  Toye,  with  the 
decisive  courtesy  of  a  total  abstainer. 

"You  look  as  if  you  wanted  one;  you 
don't  look  a  bit  fit,"  said  Cazalet  most 
kindly. 

"Nor  am  I,  sir!"  exclaimed  Toye.    "I 
guess  London's  no  place  for  me  in  the  fall. 
Just  as  well,  too,  I  judge,  since  I've  got 
to  light  out  again  straight  away." 
"You  haven't!" 

"Yes,  sir,  this  very  night.  That's  the 
worst  of  a  business  that  takes  you  to  all 
the  capitals  of  Europe  in  turn.  It  takes 
you  so  long  to  flit  around  that  you  never 
know  when  you've  got  to  start  in  again." 
"Which  capital  is  it  this  time?"  said 
Cazalet.  His  exuberant  geniality  had  been 
dashed  ver}^  visibly  for  the  moment.  But 
already  his  high  spirits  were  reasserting 
themselves;  indeed,  a  cynic  with  an  ear 
might  have  caught  the  note  of  sudden 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

consolation  in  the  question  that  Cazalet 
asked  so  briskly. 

"Got  to  go  down  to  Rome,"  said  Toye, 
watching  the  effect  of  his  words. 

"But  you've  just  come  back  from 
there!"  Cazalet  looked  no  worse  than 
puzzled. 

"No,  sir,  I  missed  Rome  out ;  that  was 
my  mistake,  and  here's  this  situation  been 
developing  behind  my  back." 

"What  situation?" 

"Oh,  why,  it  wouldn't  interest  you! 
But  I've  got  to  go  dov;n  to  Rome,  whether 
I  like  it  or  not,  and  I  don't  like  it  any,  be- 
cause I  don't  have  any  friends  there.  And 
that's  what  I'm  doing  right  here.  I  was 
wondering  if  you'd  do  something  for  me, 
Cazalet?" 

"If  I  can,"  said  Cazalet,  "with  pleas- 
ure." But  his  smiles  were  gone. 

"I  was  wondering  if  you'd  give  me  an 
144 


FAIR    WARNING 

introduction  to  those  friends  of  yours  in 
Rome!" 

There  was  a  little  pause,  and  Cazalet's 
tongue  just  showed  between  his  lips, 
moistening  them.  It  was  at  that  moment 
the  only  touch  of  color  in  his  face. 

"Did  I  tell  you  I'd  any  friends  there?" 

The  sound  of  his  voice  was  perhaps  less 
hoarse  than  puzzled.  Toye  made  himself 
chuckle  as  he  sat  looking  up  out  of  somber 
eyes. 

"Well,  if  you  didn't."  said  he,  "I  guess 
I  must  hav^e  dreamed  it!" 


X 

THE   WEEK  OF  THEIR   LIVES 

"'"T^OYE'S  gone  back  to  Italy,"  said 
,1  Cazalet.  "He  says  he  may  be 
away  only  a  week.  Let's  make  it  the 
week  of  our  lives!" 

The  scene  was  the  little  room  it  pleased 
Blanche  to  call  her  parlor,  and  the  time 
a  preposterously  early  hour  of  the  fol- 
lowing forenoon.  Cazalet  might  have 
'planed  down  from  the  skies  into  her 
sunny  snuggery,  though  his  brand-new 
Burberry  rather  suggested  another  ex- 
travagant taxicab.  But  Blanche  saw  only 
his  worn  excited  face ;  and  her  own  was 
not  at  its  best  in  her  sheer  amazement. 

If  she  had  heard  the  last  two  sentences, 
146 


THE    WEEK    OF    THEIR    LIVES 

to  understand  them  at  the  time  she  would 
have  felt  bound  to  take  them  up  first,  and 
to  ask  how  on  earth  ]Mr.  Toye  could  af- 
fect her  plans  or  pleasures.  But  such  was 
the  effect  of  the  preceding  statement  that 
all  the  rest  was  several  moments  on  the 
way  to  her  comprehension,  where  it  ar- 
rived, indeed,  more  incomprehensible  than 
ever,  but  not  worth  making  a  fuss  about 
then. 

"Italy!"  she  had  ejaculated  meanwhile. 
"IVJien  did  hQgor 

"Nine  o'clock  last  night." 

"But" — she  checked  herself — "I  simply 
can't  understand  it,  that's  all !" 

"Why?  Have  you  seen  him  since  the 
other  afternoon?" 

His  manner  might  have  explained  those 
other  two  remarks,  now  bothering  her 
when  it  was  too  late  to  notice  them;  on 
the  other  hand,  she  was  by  no  means  sure 

147 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

that  it  did.  He  might  simply  dislike  Toye, 
and  that  again  might  explain  his  extraor- 
dinary heat  over  the  argument  at  Little- 
ford.  Blanche  began  to  feel  the  air  some- 
what heavily  charged  with  explanations, 
either  demanded  or  desired ;  they  were 
things  she  hated,  and  she  determined  not 
to  add  to  them  if  she  could  help  it, 

"I  haven't  set  eyes  on  him  again,"  she 
said.  "But  he's  been  seen  here — in  a 
taxi." 

"Who  saw  him?" 

"Martha — if  she's  not  mistaken." 

This  was  a  little  disingenuous,  as  will 
appear;  but  that  impetuous  Sweep  was  in 
a  merciful  hurry  to  know  something  else. 

"When  was  this,  Blanche?" 

"Just  about  dark — say  seven  or  so.  She 
owns  it  was  about  dark,"  said  Blanche, 
though  she  felt  ashamed  of  herself. 

"Well,  it's  just  possible.  He  left  me 
148 


THE    WEEK    OE    TIIEIK    LIVES 

about  six ;  said  he  had  to  see  some  one. 
too.  now  I  think  of  it.  But  I'd  give  a  bit 
to  know  what  he  was  doing,  messing 
about  down  here  at  tlie  last  moment !" 

Blanche  liked  this  as  little  as  anything 
that  Cazalet  had  said  yet,  and  he  had  said 
nothing  that  she  did  like  this  morning. 
But  there  were  allowances  to  be  made  for 
him,  she  knew.  And  3'et  to  strengthen  her 
knowledge,  or  rather  to  let  him  confirm 
it  for  her.  either  by  word  or  by  his  silence, 
she  stated  a  certain  case  for  him  aloud. 

"Poor  old  Sweep!"  she  laughed.  "It's 
a  shame  that  you  should  ha\'e  come  home 
to  be  worried  like  this." 

"I  am  worried."  he  said  simply. 

"I  think  it's  just  splendid,  all  you're 
doing  for  that  poor  man,  but  especially 
the  way  you're  doing  it." 

''T  wisli  to  God  you  wouldn't  say  that, 
Blanche!" 

149 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

He  paid  her  the  compliment  of  speak- 
ing exactly  as  he  would  have  spoken  to  a 
man;  or  rather,  she  happened  to  be  the 
woman  to  take  it  as  a  compliment. 

"But  I  do  say  it,  Sweep !  I've  heard  all 
about  it  from  Charlie.  He  rang  me  up  last 
night." 

"You're  on  the  telephone,  are  you  ?" 
"Everybody  is  in  these  days.    Where 
have  you  lived?  Oh,  I  forgot!"   And  she 
laughed.    Anything  to   lift   this  duet  of 
theirs  out  of  the  minor  key! 

"But  what  does  old  Charlie  really  think 
of  the  case?  That's  more  to  the  point," 
said  Cazalet  uneasily. 

"Well,  he  seemed  to  fear  there  was  no 
chance  of  bail  before  the  adjourned  hear- 
ing. But  I  rather  gathered  he  was  not  go- 
ing to  be  in  it  himself?" 

"No.  We  decided  on  one  of  those 
sportsmen  who  love  rushing  in  where  a 

150 


THE   WEEK    OF   TTTEIR    LIVES 

family  lawyer  like  Charlie  owns  to  look- 
ing down  his  nose.  I've  seen  the  chap,  and 
primed  liini  iiji  aljoiit  old  Savage,  and  our 
find  in  the  foundations.  ITc  says  he'll 
make  an  example  of  Drinkwater,  and 
Charlie  says  they  call  him  tlic  Bobby's 
Bugbear!" 

"But  surely  he'll  have  to  tell  his  client 
who's  behind  him?" 

"No.  He's  just  the  type  who  would 
have  rushed  in,  anyhow.  And  it'll  be  time 
enough  to  i)ut  Scruton  under  obligations 
when  I've  got  him  off!" 

Blanche  looked  at  the  troubled  eyes 
avoiding  hers,  and  thought  that  she  had 
never  heard  of  a  fine  thing  being  done  so 
finely.  This  very  shamefacedness  a[>- 
pealed  to  her  intensely,  and  yet  last  night 
Charlie  had  said  that  old  Sweep  was  in 
such  tremendous  spirits  about  it  all !  Why 
was  he  so  down  this  morning? 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

She  only  knew  she  could  have  taken  his 
hand,  but  for  a  very  good  reason  why  she 
could  not.  She  had  even  to  guard  against 
an  equivocally  sympathetic  voice  or  man- 
ner, as  she  asked,  "How  long  did  they  re- 
mand him  for?" 

"Eight  days." 

"Well,  then,  you'll  know  the  best  or  the 
worst  to-day  week!" 

"Yes!"  he  said  eagerly,  almost  himself 
again,  "But,  whichever  way  it  goes,  I'm 
afraid  it  means  trouble  for  me,  Blanche; 
some  time  or  other  I'll  tell  you  why ;  but 
that's  why  I  want  this  to  be  the  week  of 
our  lives." 

So  he  really  meant  what  he  had  said 
before.  The  phrase  had  been  no  careless 
misuse  of  words ;  but  neither,  after  all,  did 
it  necessarily  apply  to  Mr.  Toye.  That 
was  something.  It  made  it  easier  for 
Blanche  not  to  ask  (juestions. 

1^2 


TITI-    WKF.K    or    TflF.TR    IJVRS 

Cazalet  had  gone  out  on  the  balcony; 
now  he  called  to  her;  and  there  was  no 
taxi,  but  a  smart  open  car,  waiting  in  the 
road,  its  brasses  blazing  in  the  sun,  an 
immaculate  chauffeur  at  the  wheel. 

"Whose  is  that,  Sweep?'' 

"Mine,  for  the  week  I'm  talking  about! 
I  mean  ours,  if  you'd  only  buck  up  and 
get  ready  to  come  out !  A  week  doesn't 
last  forever,  you  know !" 

Blanche  ran  off  to  Martha,  who  fussed 
and  hintlered  her  witli  the  best  intentions. 
It  would  have  been  difficult  to  say  which 
was  the  more  excited  of  the  two.  But  the 
old  nurse  would  waste  time  in  perfectly 
fatuous  reminiscences  of  the  very  earliest 
expeditions  in  which  ]\ir.  Cazalet  had  lead 
and  Blanche  had  followed,  and  what  a 
bonny  pair  they  had  made  even  then,  etc. 
Severely  snubbed  on  that  subject,  she  took 
to  peering  at  her  mistress,  once  her  bairn, 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

with  furtive  eagerness  and  impatience ;  for 
Blanche,  on  her  side,  looked  as  though  she 
had  something  on  her  mind,  and,  indeed, 
had  made  one  or  two  attempts  to  get  it 
off.   She  had  to  force  it  even  in  the  end. 

"There's  just  one  thing  I  want  to  say 
before  I  go,  Martha." 

"Yes,  dearie,  yes?" 

"You  know  when  Mr.  Toye  called  yes- 
terday, and  I  was  out?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Toye;  yes,  I  remember.  Miss 
Blanche." 

"Well,  I  don't  want  you  to  say  that  he 
came  in  and  waited  half  an  hour  in  vain ; 
in  fact,  not  that  he  came  in  at  all,  or  that 
you're  even  sure  you  saw  him,  unless,  of 
course,  you're  asked." 

"Who  should  ask  me,  I  wonder?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  but  there  seems  to 
be  a  little  bad  blood  between  Mr.  Toye 
and  Mr.  Cazalet." 

1 54 


THE   WEEK   OF    THEIR   LIVES 

Martha  looked  for  a  moment  as  though 
she  were  about  to  weep,  and  then  for  an- 
other moment  as  though  she  would  die  of 
laughing.  But  a  third  moment  she  cele- 
brated by  making  an  utter  old  fool  of  her- 
self, as  she  would  have  l)ccn  told  to  her 
face  by  anybody  but  Blanche,  whose  yel- 
low hair  was  being  disarranged  by  the 
very  hands  that  had  helped  to  imprison 
it  under  that  motor-hat  and  veil. 

"Oh,  Blanchie,  is  that  all  you  have  to 
tell  me?"  said  Martha. 

And  then  the  week  of  their  lives  began. 


XI 

IN    COUNTRY   AND    IN    TOWN 

THE  weather  was  true  to  them,  and 
this  was  a  larger  matter  than  it 
might  have  been.  They  were  not  making 
love.  They  were  "not  out  for  that,"  as 
Blanche  herself  actually  told  Alartha,  with 
annihilating  scorn,  when  the  old  dear 
looked  both  knowing  and  longing-to-know 
at  the  end  of  the  first  day's  run.  They 
were  out  to  enjoy  themselves,  and  that 
seemed  shocking  to  Martha  "unless  some- 
thing was  coming  of  it."  She  had  just 
sense  enough  to  keep  her  conditional 
clause  to  herself. 

Yet   if  they   were   only  out  to   enjoy 
themselves,    in    the    way    Miss    Blanche 

156 


IN    COUNTRY    AND    'J  OWN 

vowed  and  declared  (more  shame  for 
her),  they  certainly  had  done  wonders  for 
a  start.  Martlia  could  hardly  credit  all 
they  said  they  had  done,  and  as  an  em- 
bittered pedestrian  there  was  nothing  that 
she  would  "i)"t  past"  one  of  those  nasty 
motors.  It  said  very  little  for  Mr.  Caza- 
let,  by  the  way,  in  Martha's  private  opin- 
ion, that  he  should  take  her  Miss  Blanche 
out  in  a  car  at  all ;  if  he  had  turned  out  as 
well  as  she  had  hoped,  and  "meant  any- 
thing," a  nice  boat  on  the  river  would 
have  been  better  for  them  both  than  all 
that  tearing  through  the  air  in  a  cloud  of 
smoky  dust;  it  would  also  have  been 
much  less  expensive,  and  far  more  "the 
thing". 

But,  there,  to  see  and  hear  the  child 
after  the  first  day!  She  looked  so  bonny 
that  for  a  time  Martha  really  believed 
that  ]\fr.   Cazalet  had  "spoken,"  and  al- 

I.S7 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

lowed  herself  to  admire  him  also  as  he 
drove  off  later  with  his  wicked  lamps 
alight.  But  Blanche  would  only  go  on 
and  on  about  her  day,  the  glories  of  the 
Ripley  Road  and  the  grandeur  of  Hind- 
head.  She  had  brought  back  heaps  of 
heather  and  bunches  of  leaves  just  begin- 
ning to  turn ;  they  were  all  over  the  little 
house  before  Cazalet  had  been  gone  ten 
minutes.  But  Blanche  hadn't  forgotten 
her  poor  old  Martha ;  she  was  not  one  to 
forget  people,  especially  when  she  loved 
and  yet  had  to  snub  them.  Martha's  por- 
tion was  picture  post-cards  of  the  Gibbet 
and  other  landmarks  of  the  day. 

"And  if  you're  good,"  said  Blanche, 
"you  shall  have  some  every  day,  and  an 
album  to  keep  them  in  forever  and  ever. 
And  won't  that  be  nice  when  it's  all  over, 
and  Mr.  Cazalet's  gone  back  to  Aus- 
tralia ?" 

158 


IN    COUNTRY   AND    TOWN 

Crueller  anticlimax  was  never  planned, 
but  Martha's  face  had  brought  it  on  her; 
and  now  it  remained  to  make  her  see  for 
herself  what  an  incomparably  good  time 
they  were  having  so  far. 

"It  was  a  simply  splendid  lunch  at  the 
Beacon,  and  such  a  tea  at  Byfleet,  coming 
back  another  way,"  explained  Blanche, 
who  was  notoriously  indifferent  about  her 
food,  but  also  as  a  rule  much  hungrier 
than  she  seemed  to-night.  "It  must  be  that 
tea,  my  dear.  It  was  too  much.  To-mor- 
row I'm  to  take  the  Shram,  and  I  want 
Walter  to  see  if  he  can't  get  a  billy  and 
show  me  how  they  make  tea  in  the  bush ; 
but  he  says  it  simply  couldn't  be  done 
without  methylated." 

The  next  day  they  went  over  the  Hog's 
Back,  and  the  next  day  right  through 
London  into  Hertfordshire.  This  was  a 
tremendous   experience.    The  car  was  a 

159 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

good  one  from  a  good  firm,  and  the 
chauffeur  drove  Hke  an  angel  through  the 
traffic,  so  that  the  teeming  city  opened  be- 
fore them  from  end  to  end.  Then  the 
Hertfordshire  hedges  and  meadows  and 
timber  were  the  very  things  after  the 
Hog's  Back  and  Hindhead ;  not  so  won- 
derful, of  course,  but  more  like  old  Eng- 
land and  less  like  the  bush;  and  before 
the  day  was  out  they  had  seen,  through 
dodging  London  on  the  way  back,  the 
Harrow  boys  like  a  lot  of  young  butlers 
who  had  changed  hats  with  the  maids,  and 
Eton  boys  as  closely  resembling  a  convo- 
cation of  slack  curates. 

Then  there  was  their  Buckinghamshire 
day — Chalfont,  St.  Giles  and  Hughenden 
— and  almost  detached  experiences  such 
as  the  churchyard  at  Stoke  Poges,  where 
Cazalet  repeated  astounding  chunks  of 
its  Elegy,  learned  as  long  ago  as  his  pre- 

i6o 


IN    COUNTRY    AND    TOWN 

paratory  school-days,  and  the  terrible  dis- 
illusion of  Hoiinslow  Heath  and  its  mur- 
derous trains. 

Then  there  was  the  wood  they  found 
where  gipsies  had  been  camping,  where 
they  resolved  that  moment  to  do  the  same, 
just  exactly  in  every  detail  as  Cazalet  had 
so  often  done  it  in  the  bush;  so  that  flesh 
and  flour  were  fetched  from  the  neigh- 
boring village,  and  he  sat  on  his  heels  and 
turned  them  into  mutton  and  damper  in 
about  a  minute;  and  after  that  a  real 
camp-fire  till  long  after  dark,  and  a  shad- 
owy chauffeur  smuking  his  pipe  some- 
where in  the  other  shadows,  and  thinking 
them,  of  course,  quite  mad.  The  critic  on 
the  hearth  at  home  thought  even  worse  of 
them  than  that.  But  Blanche  only  told  the 
truth  when  she  declared  that  the  whole 
thing  had  been  her  idea ;  and  she  might 
have  added,  a  bitter  disappointment  to 

i6i 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

her,  because  Walter  simply  would  not  talk 
about  the  bush  itself,  and  never  had  since 
that  first  hour  in  the  old  empty  school- 
room at  Littleford. 

(By  the  way,  she  had  taken  to  calling 
him  Walter  to  his  face. ) 

Of  other  conversation,  however,  there 
was  not  and  never  had  been  the  slightest 
dearth  between  them ;  but  it  was,  perhaps, 
a  sad  case  of  quantity.  These  were  two 
outdoor  souls,  and  the  one  with  the  inter- 
esting life  no  longer  spoke  about  it.  Nei- 
ther was  a  great  reader,  even  of  the  pa- 
pers, though  Blanche  liked  poetry  as  she 
liked  going  to  church;  but  each  had  the 
mind  that  could  batten  quite  amiably  on 
other  people.  So  there  was  a  deal  of  talk 
about  neighbors  down  the  river,  and  some 
of  it  was  scandal,  and  all  was  gossip;  and 
there  was  a  great  deal  about  what  Blanche 
called  their  stone-age  days,  but  again  far 

162 


IN    COUNTRY    AND    TOWN 

less  about  themselves  when  young  than 
there  had  been  at  Littleford,  that  first 
day.  And  so  much  for  their  conversation, 
once  for  all ;  it  was  frankly  that  of  tv^^o 
very  ordinary  persons,  placed  in  an  ex- 
traordinary position  to  which  they  had 
shut  their  eyes  for  a  week. 

They  must  have  had  between  them, 
however,  some  rudimentary  sense  of  con- 
struction ;  for  their  final  fling,  if  not  just 
the  most  inspiring,  was  at  least  unlike  all 
the  rest.  It  was  almost  as  new  to  Blanche, 
and  now  much  more  so  to  Cazalet ;  it  ap- 
pealed as  strongly  to  their  common  stock 
of  freshness  and  simplicity.  Yet  cause 
and  effect  were  alike  undeniably  lacking 
in  distinction.  It  began  with  cartloads  of 
new  clothes  from  Cazalet's  old  tailor,  and 
it  ended  in  a  theater  and  the  Carlton. 

Martha  surpassed  herself,  of  course ; 
she  had  gone  about  for  days   (or  rather 

163 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

mornings  and  evenings)  in  an  aggressive 
silence,  her  lips  provocatively  pursed; 
but  now  the  time  had  come  for  her  to 
speak  out,  and  that  she  did.  If  Miss 
Blanche  had  no  respect  for  herself,  there 
were  those  who  had  some  for  her,  just  as 
there  were  others  who  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  the  meaning  of  the  word.  The 
euphemistic  plural  disappeared  at  the  first 
syllable  from  Blanche.  It  was  nothing  to 
Martha  that  she  had  been  offered  a  place 
in  the  car  (beside  that  forward  young 
man)  more  days  than  one;  well  did  Mr. 
Cazalet  know  her  feelings  about  motors 
before  he  made  her  the  offer.  But  she 
was  not  saying  anything  about  what  was 
past.  This  was  the  limit;  an  expression 
which  only  sullied  Martha's  lips  because 
Blanche  had  just  applied  it  to  her  inter- 
ference. It  was  not  behaving  as  a  gentle- 
man; it  was  enough  to  work  unpleasant 

164 


IN    COUNTRY    AND    TOWN 

miracles  in  her  poor  parents'  graves;  and 
though  Martha  herself  would  die  sooner 
than  inform  Mr.  Charlie  or  the  married 
sisters,  other  people  were  beginning  to 
talk,  and  when  this  came  out  she  knew 
who  would  get  the  blame. 

So  Blanche  seemed  rather  flushed  and 
very  spirited  at  the  short  and  early  dinner 
at  Dieudonne's ;  but  it  was  a  fact  that  the 
motoring  had  affected  her  skin,  besides 
making  her  eyes  look  as  though  she  had 
been  doing  what  she  simply  never  did.  It 
had  also  toned  up  the  lower  part  of  CazS^ 
let's  face  to  match  the  rest ;  otherwise  he 
was  more  like  a  meerschaum  pipe  than 
ever,  with  the  white  frieze  across  his 
forehead  (but  now  nothing  else)  to  stamp 
him  from  the  wilds.  And  soon  nobody 
was  laughing  louder  at  Mr.  Payne  and 
Mr.  Grossmith :  nobody  looked  better 
qualified  for  his  gaiety  stall,  nobody  less 

165 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

like   a   predestined   figure    in    impending 
melodrama. 

So  also  at  the  Carlton  later;  more 
champagne,  of  course,  and  the  jokes  of 
the  evening  to  replenish  a  dwindling  store, 
and  the  people  at  the  other  tables  to  give 
a  fresh  fillip  to  the  game  of  gossip. 
Blanche  looked  as  well  as  any  of  them  in 
a  fresher  way  than  most,  and  Cazalet  a 
noble  creature  in  all  his  brand-new  glory; 
and  she  winced  with  pride  at  the  huge  tip 
she  saw  him  give  the  waiter;  for  an  old 
friend  may  be  proud  of  an  old  friend, 
surely!  Then  they  got  a  good  place  for 
watching  more  people  in  the  lounge ;  and 
the  fiddling  conductor  proved  the  best 
worth  watching  of  the  lot,  and  was  pro- 
nounced the  very  best  performer  that  Caz- 
alet had  ever  heard  in  all  his  life.  Many 
other  items  were  praised  in  the  same  fer- 

i66 


IN    COUNTRY    AND    TOWN 

vent  formula,  vvhicli  Blanche  confirmed 
about  everything  except  his  brandy  and 
cigar. 

Above  all  was  it  delightful  to  feel  that 
their  beloved  car  was  waiting  for  them 
outside,  to  whirl  them  out  of  all  this 
racket  just  as  late  as  they  liked ;  for  quite 
early  in  the  week  (and  this  was  a  glaring 
aggravation  in  Martha's  eyes)  Cazalet 
had  taken  lodgings  for  himself  and  driver 
in  those  very  Nell  Gwynne  Cottages  where 
Hilton  Toye  had  stayed  before  him. 

All  the  evening  nothing  had  been  better 
of  its  kind  than  this  music  at  the  very 
end ;  and,  of  course,  it  was  the  kind  fur 
Blanche  and  Cazalet,  who  for  his  part 
liked  anything  with  a  tunc,  but  could 
never  remember  one  to  save  his  life.  Yet 
when  they  played  an  aged  waltz,  actually 
in  its  second  decade,  just  upon  half  past 

167 


TPTE    THOUSANDTH    WOMy\N 

twelve,  even  Cazalet  cocked  his  head  and 
frowned,  as  though  he  had  heard  the 
thing  before. 

*T  seem  to  know  that,"  he  said.  "I  be- 
lieve I've  danced  to  it." 

*T  have,"  said  Blanche.  "Often,"  she 
added  suddenly ;  and  then,  *T  suppose  you 
sometimes  dance  in  the  bush,  Walter?" 

"Sometimes." 

"That's  where  it  was,  then." 

"I  don't  think  so.  You  couldn't  get 
that  tremendous  long  note  on  a  piano. 
There  it  goes  again — bars  and  bars  of  it! 
That's  what  I  seem  to  remember." 

Blanche's  face  never  changed.  "Now, 
that's  the  end.  They're  beginning  to  put 
the  lights  out,  Walter.  Don't  you  think 
we'd  better  go?" 


XII 

THE  THOUSANDTH    MAN 

IT  had  been  new  life  to  them,  but  now 
it  was  all  over.  Tt  was  the  last  evening 
of  their  week,  and  they  were  spending  it 
rather  silently  on  Blanche's  balcony. 

"T  make  it  at  least  three  hundred,"  said 
Cazalet,  and  knocked  out  a  pipe  that 
might  have  been  a  gag.  *'You  see,  we 
were  very  seldom  under  fifty!" 

"Speak  for  yourself,  please!  My  lon- 
gevity's a  tender  point,"  said  Blanche, 
who  looked  as  though  she  had  no  business 
to  have  her  hair  up.  as  she  sat  in  a  pale 
cross-fire  between  a  lamp-post  and  her 
lighted  room. 

Cazalet  protested  that  he  had  only 
169 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

meant  their  mileage  in  the  car;  he  made 
himself  extremely  intelligible  now,  as  he 
often  would  when  she  rallied  him  in  a 
serious  voice.  Evidently  that  was  not  the 
way  to  rouse  him .  up  to-night,  and  she 
wanted  to  cheer  him  after  all  that  he  had 
done  for  her.  Better  perhaps  not  to  burke 
the  matter  that  she  knew  was  on  his  mind. 

"Well,  it's  been  a  heavenly  time,"  she 
assured  him  just  once  more.  "And  to- 
morrow it's  pretty  sure  to  come  all  right 
about  Scruton,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes !  To-morrow  we  shall  probably 
have  Toye  back,"  he  answered  with  grim 
inconsequence. 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it,  Walter?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  of  course." 

But  still  his  tone  was  grim  and  heavy, 
with  a  schoolboy  irony  that  he  would  not 
explain  but  could  not  keep  to  himself.  So 
Mr.  Toye  must  be  turned  out  of  the  con- 

170 


THE    THOUSANDTH    MAN 

versation,  though  it  was  not  Blanche  who 
had  dragged  him  in.  She  wished  people 
would  stick  to  their  point.  She  meant  to 
make  people,  just  for  once  and  for  their 
own  good ;  but  it  took  time  t(j  find  so 
many  fresh  openings,  and  he  only  cutting 
up  another  pipeful  of  that  really  rather 
objectionable  bush  tobacco. 

"There's  one  thing  I've  rather  wanted 
to  ask  you,"  she  began. 

"Yes?"  said  Cazalet. 

"You  said  the  other  day  that  it  would 
mean  worry  for  you  in  any  case — after 
to-morrow — whether  the  charge  is  dis- 
missed or  not!" 

His  wicker  chair  creaked  under  him. 

"I  don't  see  why  it  should,"  she  per- 
sisted, "if  the  case  falls  through." 

"Well,  that's  where  I  come  in,"  he  had 
to  say. 

"Surely  you  mean  just  the  other  way 
171 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

about?  If  they  commit  the  man  for  trial, 
then  you  do  come  in,  I  know.  It's  like 
your  goodness." 

"I  Avish  you  wouldn't  say  that!  It 
liurts  me !" 

"Then  will  you  explain  yourself?  It's 
not  fair  to  tell  me  so  much,  and  then  to 
leave  out  just  the  bit  that's  making  you 
miserable!" 

The  trusty,  sisterly,  sensible  voice,  half 
bantering  but  altogether  kind,  genuinely 
interested  if  the  least  bit  inquisitive,  too, 
v/ould  have  gone  to  a  harder  or  more 
hardened  heart  than  beat  on  Blanche's 
balcony  that  night.  Yet  as  Cazalet  lighted 
his  pipe  he  looked  old  enough  to  be  her 
father. 

"I'll  tell  you  some  time,"  he  pufifed. 

"It's  only  a  case  of  two  heads,"  said 
Blanche.  *T  know  you're  bothered,  and 
I  should  like  to  help,  that's  all." 

"You  couldn't." 

172 


THE    TIIOUSANDTTT    MAN 

"How  do  yon  know?  I  believe  you're 
going  to  devote  yourself  to  this  poor  man 
— if  you  can  get  him  off — I  mean,  when 
you  do." 

"Well?"  he  said. 

"Surely  I  could  help  you  there!  Espe- 
ciallv  if  he's  ill,"  cried  Blanche,  encour- 
aged  by  his  silence.  "I'm  not  half  a  bad 
nurse,  really!" 

"I'm  certain  you're  not." 

"Does  he  look  very  ill?" 

She  had  been  trying  to  avoid  the  direct 
question  as  far  as  possible,  but  this  one 
seemed  so  harmless.  Yet  it  was  received 
in  a  stony  silence  unlike  any  that  had  gone 
before.  It  was  as  though  Cazalet  neither 
moved  nor  breathed,  whereas  he  had  been 
all  sighs  and  fidgets  just  before.  His  pipe 
was  out  already — that  was  the  one  merit 
of  bush  tobacco,  it  required  constant  at- 
tention— and  he  did  not  look  like  lighting 
it  again. 

173 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

Until  to-night  they  had  not  mentioned 
Scruton  since  the  motoring  began.  That 
had  been  a  tacit  rule  of  the  road,  of  way- 
side talk  and  indoor  orgy.  But  Blanche 
had  always  assumed  that  Cazalet  had  been 
to  see  him  in  the  prison ;  and  now  he  told 
her  that  he  never  had. 

"I  can't  face  him,"  he  cried  under  his 
breath,  "and  that's  the  truth !  Let  me  get 
him  out  of  this  hole,  and  I'm  his  man  for- 
ever ;  but  until  I  do,  while  there's  a  chance 
of  failing,  I  simply  can't  face  the  fellow. 
It  isn't  as  if  he'd  asked  to  see  me.  Why 
should  I  force  myself  upon  him?" 

"He  hasn't  asked  to  see  you  because  he 
doesn't  know  what  you're  doing  for  him !" 
Blanche  leaned  forward  as  eagerly  as  she 
was  speaking,  all  her  repressed  feelings 
coming  to  their  own  in  her  for  just  a  mo- 
ment. "He  doesn't  know  because  I  do 
believe  you  wouldn't  have  him  told  that 

174 


THE    THOUSANDTH    MAN 

you'd  arrived,  lest  he  should  suspect !  You 
arc  a  brick,  Sweep,  you  really  are !" 

He  was  too  much  of  uiic  to  sit  still 
under  the  name.    He  sprang  up,  beating 
his  hands.    "Why  shouldn't  I  be — to  him 
— to  a  poor  devil  who's  been  through  all 
he's  been  through?  Ten  years!  Just  think 
of  it;  no,  it's  unthinkable  to  you  or  me. 
And  it  all  started  in  our  office;  we  were 
to  blame  for  not  keeping  our  eyes  open; 
things  couldn't  have  come  to  such  a  pass 
if  we'd  done  our  part,  my  poor  old  father 
for  one — I   can't  help   saying  it — and   I 
myself  for  another.   TaPc  about  contribu' 
tory  negligence!    We  were  negligent,  as 
well  as  blind.    We  didn't  know  a  villain 
when  we  saw  one,  and  we  let  him  make 
another  villain  under  our  noses;  and  the 
second  one  was  the  only  one  we  could  see 
in   his  true  colors,   even  then.    Do  you 
think  we  owe  him  nothing  now?    Don't 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

you  think  /  owe  him  something,  as  the 
only  man  left  to  pay  ?" 

But  Blanche  made  no  attempt  to  an- 
swer his  passionate  questions.  He  had  let 
himself  go  at  last;  it  relieved  her  also  in 
a  way,  for  it  was  the  natural  man  back 
again  on  her  balcony.  But  he  had  set 
Blanche  off  thinking  on  other  lines  than 
he  intended. 

*T'm  thinking  of  what  he  must  have 
felt  he  owed  Mr.  Craven  and — and 
Ethel !"  she  owned. 

*T  don't  bother  my  head  over  either  of 
them,"  returned  Cazalet  harshly.  "He 
was  never  a  white  man  In  his  lifetime,  and 
slie  was  every  inch  his  daughter.  Scru- 
ton'vS  the  one  I  pity — ^because — because 
I've  suffered  so  much  from  that  man  my- 
self." 

"But  you  don't  think  he  did  it!" 
Blanche  was  sharp  enough  to  interrupt. 

176 


THE   THOUSANDTH    MAN 

"No— no— but  if  he  had!" 

"You'd  still  stand  by  him?" 

"I've  told  you  so  before.  I  meant  to 
take  him  back  to  Australia  with  me — I 
never  told  you  that — but  I  meant  to  take 
him,  and  not  a  soul  out  there  to  know  who 
he  was."  He  sighed  aloud  over  the  tragic 
stopper  on  that  plan. 

"And  would  you  still?"  she  asked. 

"If  I  could  get  him  off." 

"Guilty  or  not  guilty?" 

"Rather!" 

There  was  neither  shame,  pose,  nor  hes- 
itation about  that.  Blanche  went  through 
into  the  room  without  a  word,  but  her 
eyes  shone  finely  in  the  lamplight.  Then 
she  returned  with  a  book,  and  stood  half 
in  the  balcony,  framed  as  in  a  panel,  look- 
ing for  a  place. 

"You  remind  me  of  The  Thousandth 
Mail,"  she  told  him  as  she  found  it. 

177 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"Who  was  he?" 

"He's  every  man  who  does  a  thou- 
sandth part  of  what  you're  doing!"  said 
Blanche  with  confidence.  And  then  she 
read,  rather  shyly  and  not  too  well : 

"  'One  man  in  a  thousand,  Solomon  says, 

Will  stick  more  close  than  a  brother. 
And  it's  worth  while  seeking  him   half 
your  days 
If  you  find  him  before  the  other. 
Nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  depend 

On  what  the  world  sees  in  you, 
But  the  Thousandth  Man  will  stand  your 
friend 
With    the    whole    round    world    ag^in 
you. 


5    >> 


"I  should  hope  he  would,"  said  Cazalet, 
"if  he's  a  man  at  all." 

"But  this  is  the  bit  for  you,"  said 
Blanche : 

"  'His    wrong's    your    wrong,    and    his 
right's  your  right, 

178 


THE    THOUSANDTH    MAN 

In  season  or  out  of  season. 
Stand  up  and  back  it  in  all  men's  sight — 

With  that  for  your  only  reason ! 
Nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  can't  bide 

The  shame  or  mocking  or  laughter, 
But  the  Thousandth  Man  will  stand  by 
your  side 

To  the  gallozvs-foot — and  after!'  " 

The  last  italics  were  in  Blanche's  voice, 
and  it  trembled,  but  so  did  Cazalet's  as  he 
cried  out  in  his  formula : 

"That's  the  finest  thing  I  ever  heard  in 
all  my  life !  But  it's  true,  and  so  it  should 
be.  /  don't  take  any  credit  for  it." 

"Then  you're  all  the  more  the  thou- 
sandth man !" 

He  caught  her  suddenly  by  the  shoul- 
ders. His  rough  hands  trembled ;  his  jaw 
worked.  "Look  here,  Blanchie!  H  you 
had  a  friend,  wouldn't  you  do  the  same?" 

"Yes,  if  I'd  such  a  friend  as  all  that," 
she  faltered. 

1/9 


THE   THOUSANDTH.    WOMAN 

**You'd  stand  by  his  side  *to  the  gal- 
lows-foot'— if  he  was  swine  enough  to 
let  you?" 

*T  dare  say  I  might." 

"However  bad  a  thing  it  was — ^murder, 
if  you  like — and  however  much  he  was 
mixed  up  in  it — not  like  poor  Scruton?" 

"I'd  try  to  stick  to  him,"  she  said 
simply. 

"Then  you're  the  thousandth  woman," 
said  Cazalet.   "God  bless  vou,  Blanchie!" 

He  turned  on  his  heel  in  the  balcony, 
and  a  minute  later  found  the  room  behind 
him  empty.  He  entered,  stood  thinking, 
and  suddenly  began  looking  all  over  for 
the  photograph  of  himself,  with  a  beard, 
which  he  had  seen  there  a  week  before. 


XIII 

QUID    PRO    QUO 

IT  was  his  blessing  that  had  done  it ;  up 
to  then  she  had  controlled  her  feelings 
in  a  fashion  worthy  of  the  title  just  be- 
stowed upon  her.  If  only  he  had  stopped 
at  that,  and  kept  his  blessing  to  himself! 
It  sounded  so  very  much  more  like  a  knell 
that  Blanche  had  begun  first  to  laugh,  and 
then  to  make  such  a  fool  of  herself  (as 
she  herself  reiterated)  that  she  was 
obliged  to  run  away  in  the  worst  possible 
order. 

But  that  was  not  the  end  of  those  four 
superfluous  w-ords  of  final  benediction ;  be- 
fore the  night  was  out  they  had  solved,  to 
Blanche's  satisfaction,  the  hitherto  im- 
penetrable mystery  of  Cazalet's  conduct. 

i8i 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

He  had  done  something  in  Australia, 
something  that  fixed  a  gulf  between  him 
and  her.  Blanche  did  not  mean  something 
wrong,  much  less  a  crime,  least  of  all  any 
sort  of  complicity  in  the  great  crime  which 
had  been  committed  while  he  was  on  his 
way  home.  Obviously  he  could  have  had 
no  connection  with  that,  until  days  after- 
ward as  the  accused  man's  friend.  Yet  he 
had  on  his  conscience  some  act  or  other 
of  which  he  was  ashamed  to  speak.  It 
might  even  itself  be  shameful;  that  was 
what  his  whole  manner  had  suggested,  but 
what  Blanche  was  least  ready  and  at  the 
same  time  least  unwilling  to  believe.  She 
felt  she  could  forgive  such  an  old  friend 
almost  anything.  But  she  believed  the 
worst  he  had  done  was  to  emulate  his 
friend  Mr.  Potts,  and  to  get  engaged  or 
perhaps  actually  married  to  somebody  in 
the  bush. 

182 


"God   bless  you,    Blanchie !" 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

There  was  ik^  reason  why  he  should 
not ;  there  never  had  heen  any  sort  or  kind 
of  understanding  between  herself  and 
him;  it  was  only  as  lifelong  friends  that 
they  had  written  to  each  other,  and  that 
only  once  a  year.  Lifelong  friendships 
are  traditionally  fatal  to  romance. 
Blanche  could  remember  only  one  occa- 
sion on  which  their  friendship  had  risen 
to  something  more — or  fallen  to  some- 
thing less !  She  knew  which  it  had  been 
to  her;  especially  just  afterward,  when  all 
his  troubles  had  come  and  he  had  gone 
away  without  another  word  of  that  kind. 
He  had  resolved  not  to  let  her  tie  her- 
self, and  so  had  tied  her  all  the  tighter,  if 
not  tighter  still  by  never  stating  his  re- 
solve. But  to  go  as  far  as  this  is  to  go  two 
or  three  steps  further  than  Blanche  went 
in  her  perfectly  rational  retrospect:  she 
simply  saw,  as  indeed  she  had  always  seen, 

183 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

that  they  had  both  been  free  as  air ;  and  If 
he  was  free  no  longer,  she  had  abso- 
lutely no  cause  for  complaint,  even  if  she 
was  fool  enough  to  feel  it. 

All  this  she  saw  quite  clearly  in  her 
very  honest  heart.    And  yet,   he  might 
have  told  her ;  he  need  not  have  flown  to 
see  her,  the  instant  he  landed,  or  seemed 
so  overjoyed,  and  such  a  boy  again,  or 
made  so  much  of  her  and  their  common 
memories !   He  need  not  have  begun  beg- 
ging her,  in  a  minute,  to  go  out  to  Aus- 
tralia, and  then  never  have  mentioned  it 
again ;  he  might  just  as  well  have  told  her 
if  he  had  or  hoped  to  have  a  wife  to  wel- 
come her!  Of  course  he  saw  it  afterward, 
himself;  that  was  why  the  whole  subject 
of  Australia  had  been  dropped  so  sud- 
denly and  for  good.    Most  likely  he  had 
married  beneath  him ;  if  so,  she  was  very 
sorry,  but  he  might  have  said  that  he  was 

184 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

married.  Had  Blanche  been  analyzing  her- 
self, and  not  just  the  general  position  of 
things,  she  would  have  had  hereabouts  to 
account  to  her  conscience  for  a  not  un- 
pleasing  spasm  at  the  sudden  thought  of 
his  being  unhappily  married  all  the  time. 

One  proof  was  that  he  had  utterly  for- 
gotten all  about  the  waltz  of  Eldorado 
— even  its  name !  No ;  it  had  some  vague 
associations  for  him,  and  that  was  worse 
than  none  at  all.  Blanche  had  its  long 
note  (not  ''bars  and  bars,"  though, 
Sweep)  wailing  in  her  head  all  night. 
And  so  for  him  their  friendship  had  only 
fallen  to  something  lower,  to  that  hate- 
ful haunting  tune  that  he  could  not  even 
decently  forget! 

Curiously  enough,  it  was  over  Martha 
that  she  felt  least  able  to  forgive  him. 
Martha  would  say  nothing,  but  her  un- 
spoken denunciations  of  Cazalet  would  be 

185 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

only  less  intolerable  than  her  unspoken 
sympathy  with  Blanche.  Martha  had 
been  perfectly  awful  about  the  whole 
thing.  And  Martha  had  committed  the 
final  outrage  of  being  perfectly  right, 
from  her  idiotic  point  of  view. 

Now  among  all  these  meditations  of  a 
long  night,  and  of  a  still  longer  day,  in 
which  nobody  even  troubled  to  send  her 
word  of  the  case  at  Kingston,  it  would 
be  too  much  to  say  that  no  thought  of 
Hilton  Toye  ever  entered  the  mind  of 
Blanche.  She  could  not  help  liking  him; 
he  amused  her  immensely ;  and  he  had 
proposed  to  her  twice,  and  warned  her 
he  would  again.  She  felt  the  force  of  his 
warning,  because  she  felt  his  force  of 
character  and  will.  She  literally  felt  these 
forces,  as  actual  emanations  from  the 
strongest  personality  that  had  ever  im- 
pinged upon  her  own.    Not  only  was  he 

i86 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

strong,  but  capable  and  cultivated ;  and 
he  knew  the  whole  world  as  most  people 
only  knew  some  hole  or  corner  of  it ;  and 
could  be  most  interesting  without  ever 
talking  about  himself  or  other  people. 

In  the  day  of  reaction,  such  considera- 
tions were  bound  to  steal  in  as  single 
spies,  each  with  a  certain  consolation,  not 
altogether  innocent  of  comparisons.  But 
the  battalion  of  Toye's  virtues  only 
marched  on  Blanche  when  Martha  came 
to  her,  on  the  little  green  rug  of  a  lawn 
behind  the  house,  to  say  that  Mr.  Toye 
himself  had  called  and  was  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

Blanche  stole  up  past  the  door,  and 
quickly  made  herself  smarter  than  she 
had  e\-er  done  by  day  for  Walter  Cazalet ; 
at  least  she  put  on  a  "dressy"  blouse,  her 
calling  skirt  (which  always  looked  new), 
and  did  what  she  could  to  her  hair.    All 

187 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

this  was  only  because  Mr.  Toye  always 
came  down  as  if  it  were  May  fair,  and  it 
was  rotten  to  make  people  feel  awkward 
if  you  could  help  it.  So  in  sailed  Blanche, 
in  her  veiy  best  for  the  light  of  day,  to 
be  followed  as  soon  as  possible  by  the 
silver  teapot,  though  she  had  just  had  tea 
herself.  And  there  stood  Hilton  Toye, 
chin  blue  and  collar  black,  his  trousers  all 
knees  and  no  creases,  exactly  as  he  had 
jumped  out  of  the  boat-train. 

"I  guess  I'm  not  fit  to  speak  to  you," 
he  said,  "but  that's  just  what  I've  come  to 
do — for  the  third  time!" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Toye!"  cried  Blanche,  really 
frightened  by  the  face  that  made  his 
meaning  clear.  It  relaxed  a  little  as  she 
shrank  involuntarily,  but  the  compassion 
in  his  eyes  and  mouth  did  not  lessen  their 
steady  determination. 

"I  didn't  have  time  to  make  myself 
1 88 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

presentable,"  be  explained.  "I  thouglit 
yr)u  wouldn't  have  me  waste  a  moment  if 
you  understood  the  situation.  I  want 
your  promise  to  marry  me  right  now !" 

Blanche  began  to  breathe  again.  Evi- 
dently be  was  on  the  eve  of  yet  another 
of  his  journeys,  probably  back  to  Amer- 
ica, and  he  wanted  to  go  over  engaged; 
at  first  she  had  thought  he  had  bad  news 
to  break  to  her,  but  this  was  no  worse 
than  she  had  heard  before.  Only  it  was 
more  difficult  to  cope  with  him;  every- 
thing was  different,  and  he  so  much  more 
pressing  and  precipitate.  She  had  never 
met  this  Hilton  Toye  before.  Yes;  she 
was  distinctly  frightened  by  him.  But  in 
a  minute  she  had  ceased  to  be  frightened 
of  herself;  she  knew  her  own  mind  once 
more,  and  spoke  it  much  as  he  had  spoken 
his,  quite  compassionately,  but  just  as 
tersely  to  the  point. 

1 89 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"One  moment,"  he  interrupted.  'T  said 
nothing  about  my  feehngs,  because 
they're  a  kind  of  stale  proposition  by  this 
time;  but  for  form's  sake  I  may  state 
there's  no  change  there,  except  in  the  only 
direction  I  guess  a  person's  feelings  are 
liable  to  change  toward  you,  Miss 
Blanche!  I'm  a  worse  case  than  ever,  if 
that  makes  any  difference." 

Blanche  shook  her  yellow  head.  "Noth- 
ing can,"  she  said.  "There  must  be  no 
possible  mistake  about  it  this  time,  be- 
cause I  want  you  to  be  very  good  and 
never  ask  me  again.  And  I'm  glad  you 
didn't  make  all  the  proper  speeches,  be- 
cause I  needn't  either,  Mr.  Toye !  But — I 
know  my  own  mind  better  than  I  ever  did 
until  this  very  minute — and  I  could  sim- 
ply never  marry  you !" 

Toye  accepted  his  fate  with  a  ready 
resignation,  little  short  of  alacrity.   There 

190 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

was  a  gleam  in  his  somber  eyes,  and  his 
blue  chin  came  u[)  with  a  jerk.  "That's 
talking!"  said  he.  "Now  will  you  prom- 
ise me  never  to  marr}'  Cazalet?" 

"Mr.  Toye!" 

"That's  talking,  too,  and  I  guess  I 
mean  it  to  be.  It's  not  all  dog-in-the- 
manger,  either.  I  want  that  promise  a  lot 
more  than  I  want  the  other.  You  needn't 
marry  nic,  ]\liss  Blanche,  but  you  mustn't 
marry  Cazalet." 

Blanche  was  blazing.  "But  this  is  sim- 
ply outrageous — " 

"I  claim  there's  an  outrageous  cause 
for  it.  Are  you  prepared  to  swear  what 
I  ask,  and  trust  me  as  I'll  trust  you,  or 
am  I  to  tell  you  the  whole  thing  right 
now?" 

"You  won't  force  me  to  listen  to  an- 
other word  from  you,  if  you're  a  gentle- 
man, Mr.  Toye !" 

IQI 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"It's  not  what  I  am  that  counts.  Swear 
that  to  me,  and  I  swear,  on  my  side,  that 
I  won't  give  him  away  to  you  or  any  one 
else.  But  it  must  be  the  most  solemn  con- 
tract man  and  woman  ever  made." 

The  silver  teapot  arrived  at  this  junc- 
ture, and  not  inopportunely.  She  had  to 
give  him  his  tea,  with  her  young  maid's 
help,  and  to  play  a  tiny  part  in  which  he 
supported  her  really  beautifully.  She  had 
time  to  think,  almost  coolly;  and  one 
thought  brought  a  thrill.  If  it  was  a  ques- 
tion of  her  marrying  or  not  marrying 
Walter  Cazalet,  then  he  must  be  free,  and 
only  the  doer  of  some  dreadful  deed! 

"What  has  he  done  ?"  she  begged,  with 
a  pathetic  abandonment  of  her  previous 
attitude,  the  moment  they  were  by  them- 
selves. 

"Must  I  tell  you?"  His  reluctance 
rang  genuine. 

192 


QUID    PRO    OUO 

"I  insist  upon  it !"  she  flashed  again. 

"Well,  it's  a  long  story." 

"Never  mind.   I  can  listen." 

"Yon  know,  I  had  to  go  hack  to 
Italy—" 

"Had  you?" 

"Well,  I  did  go."  He  had  slurred  the 
first  statement;  this  one  was  characteris- 
tically deliberate.  "I  did  go,  and  before 
I  went  I  asked  Cazalet  for  an  introduction 
to  some  friends  of  his  down  in  Rome." 

"I  didn't  know  he  had  any,"  said 
Blanche.  She  was  not  listening  so  very 
well;  she  was,  in  fact,  instinctively  pre- 
pared to  challenge  every  statement,  on 
Cazalct's  behalf;  and  here  her  instinct  de- 
feated itself. 

"No  more  he  has,"  said  Toye,  "but  he 
claimed  to  have  some.  He  left  the  Kaiser 
Fritz  the  other  day  at  Naples — just  when 
I  came  aboard.  I  guess  he  told  you  ?'' 

193 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"No.  I  understood  he  came  round  to 
Southampton.  Surely  you  shared  a 
cabin?" 

"Only  from  Genoa;  that's  where  Caza- 
let  rejoined  the  steamer." 

"Well?" 

"He  claimed  to  have  spent  the  interval 
mostly  with  friends  in  Rome.  Those 
friends  don't  exist,  Miss  Blanche,"  said 
Toye. 

"Is  that  any  business  of  mine?"  she 
asked  him  squarely. 

"Why,  yes,  I'm  afraid  it's  going  to  be. 
That  is,  unless  you'll  still  trust  me — " 

"Go  on,  please." 

"Why,  he  never  stayed  in  Rome  at  all, 
nor  yet  in  Italy  any  longer  than  it  takes 
to  come  through  on  the  train.  Your  at- 
tention for  one  moment!"  He  took  out  a 
neat  pocketbook.  Blanche  had  opened  her 
lips,  but  she  did  not  interrupt;  she  just 

194 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

grasped  the  arms  of  her  chair,  as  though 
about  to  bear  pliysical  pain.  "The  Kaiser 
Fritz" — Toyc  was  speaking  from  his  book 
— "got  to  Naples  late  Monday  afternoon, 
September  eighth.  She  was  overdue,  and 
I  was  mad  about  it,  and  madder  still  when 
I  went  aboard  and  she  never  sailed  till 
morning.  I  guess  I'd  wasted — " 

"Do  tell  me  about  Walter  Cazalet!" 
cried  Blanche.  It  was  like  small  talk  from 
a  dentist  at  the  last  moment. 

"I  want  you  to  understand  about  the 
steamer  first,"  said  Toye.  "She  waited 
Monday  night  in  the  Bay  of  Naples,  only 
sailed  Tuesday  morning,  only  reached 
Genoa  Wednesday  morning,  and  lay  there 
forty-eight  hours,  as  the  German  boats 
do,  anyhow.  That  brings  us  to  Friday 
morning  before  the  Kaiser  Fritz  gets  quit 
of  Italy,  doesn't  it?" 

"Yes— do  tell  me  about  Walter!" 

195 


THE   THOUSANDTH   WOMAN 

"He  was  gone  ashore  Monday  evening 
before  I  came  aboard  at  Naples.  I  never 
saw  him  till  he  scrambled  aboard  again 
Friday,  about  the  fifty-ninth  minute  of 
the  eleventh  hour." 

"At  Genoa?" 

"Sure." 

"And  you  pretend  to  know  where  he'd 
been?" 

"I  guess  I  do  know" — and  Toye  sighed 
as  he  raised  his  little  book.  "Cazalet 
stepped  on  the  train  that  left  Naples  six 
fifty  Monday  evening,  and  off  the  one 
timed  to  reach  Charing  Cross  three 
twenty-five  Wednesday." 

"The  day  of  the  m— " 

"Yes.  I  never  called  it  by  the  hardest 
name,  myself;  but  it  was  seven  thirty 
Wednesday  evening  that  Henry  Craven 
got  his  death-blow  somehow.  Well,  Wal- 
ter Cazalet  left  Charing  Cross  again  by 

196 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

the  nine  o'clock  that  night,  and  was  back 
aboard  the  Kaiser  Fritc  on  Friday  morn- 
ing— fnll  of  his  friends  in  Rome  who 
didn't  exist !" 

The  note-book  was  put  away  with 
every  symptom  of  rehef. 

"I  suppose  you  can  prove  what  you 
say?"  said  Blanche  in  a  voice  as  dull  as 
her  imseeing  eyes. 

"I  have  men  to  swear  to  him — ticket- 
collectors,  conductors,  waiters  on  the  res- 
taurant-car— all  up  and  down  the  line.  T 
went  over  the  same  ground  on  the  same 
trains,  so  that  was  simple.  I  can  also 
produce  the  barber  who  claims  to  have 
taken  off  his  beard  in  Paris,  where  he  put 
in  hours  Thursday  morning." 

Blanche  looked  up  suddenly,  not  at 
Toye,  but  past  him  toward  an  overladen 
side-table  against  the  wall.  It  was  there 
that     Cazalet's     photograph     had     stood 

197 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

among  many  others;  until  this  morning 
she  had  never  missed  it,  for  she  seemed 
hardly  to  have  been  in  her  room  all  the 
week;  but  she  had  been  wondering  who 
had  removed  it,  whether  Cazalet  himself 
(who  had  spoken  of  doing  so,  she  now 
knew  why),  or  Martha  (whom  she  would 
not  question  about  it)  in  a  fit  of  ungov- 
ernable disapproval.  And  now  there  was 
the  photograph  back  in  its  place,  leather 
frame  and  all! 

"I  know  what  you  did,"  said  Blanche. 
"You  took  that  photograph  with  you — 
the  one  on  that  table — and  had  him  iden- 
tified by  it!" 

Yet  she  stated  the  fact,  for  his  bowed 
head  admitted  it  to  be  one,  as  nothing  but 
a  fact,  in  the  same  dull  voice  of  apathetic 
acquiescence  in  an  act  of  which  the  man 
himself  was  ashamed.  She  could  see  him 
wondering  at  her ;  she  even  wondered  at 

198 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

herself.    Yet  if  all  this  were  true,  what 
matter  how  the  truth  had  come  to  light? 

"It  was  the  night  I  came  down  to  bid 
you  good-by,"  he  confessed,  "and  didn't 
have  time  to  wait.  I  didn't  come  down 
for  the  photo.  I  never  thought  of  it  till 
I  saw  it  there.  I  came  down  to  kind  of 
warn  you,  Miss  Blanche!" 

"Against  him?"  she  said,  as  if  there 
was  only  one  man  left  in  the  world. 

"Yes — I  guess  I'd  already  warned 
Cazalet  that  I  was  starting  on  his  tracks." 

And  then  Blanche  just  said,  "Poor — 
old — Sweep!"  as  one  talking  to  herself. 
And  Toye  seized  upon  the  words  as  she 
had  seized  on  nothing  from  him. 

"Have  you  only  pity  for  the  fellow?" 
he  cried ;  for  she  was  gazing  at  the 
bearded  photograph  without  revulsion. 

"Of  course,"  she  answered,  hardly  at- 
tending. 

199 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"Even  though  he  killed  this  man — 
even  though  he  came  across  Europe  to 
kill  him?" 

"You  don't  think  it  was  deliberate 
yourself,  even  if  he  did  do  it." 

''But  can  you  doubt  that  he  did  ?"  cried 
Toye,  quick  to  ignore  the  point  she  had 
made,  yet  none  the  less  sincerely  con- 
vinced upon  the  other.  'T  guess  you 
wouldn't  if  you'd  heard  some  of  the 
things  he  said  to  me  on  the  steamer ;  and 
he's  made  good  every  syllable  since  he 
landed.  Why,  it  explains  every  single 
thing  he's  done  and  left  undone.  He'll 
strain  every  nerve  to  have  Scruton  ably 
defended,  but  he  won't  see  the  man  he's 
defending;  says  himself  that  he  can't  face 
him!" 

"Yes.  He  said  so  to  me,"  said  Blanche, 
nodding  in  confirmation. 

"To  you?" 

"I  didn't  understand  him." 
200 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

"But  you're  been  seeing  him  all  this 
while?" 

"Every  day,"  said  Blanche,  her  soft 
eyes  filling  suddenly.  "We've  had — we've 
had  the  time  of  our  lives!" 

"My  God!"  said  Toye.  "The  time  of 
your  life  with  a  man  who's  got  another 
man's  blood  on  his  hands — and  that 
makes  no  difference  to  you!  The  time  of 
your  life  with  the  man  who  knew  where 
to  lay  hands  on  the  weapon  he'd  done  it 
with,  who  went  as  far  as  that  to  save  the 
innocent,  but  no  farther!" 

"He  would ;  he  will  still,  if  it's  still  nec- 
essary. You  don't  know  him,  Mr.  Toye; 
you  haven't  known  him  all  your  life." 

"And  all  this  makes  no  difference  to  a 
good  and  gentle  woman — one  of  the  gen- 
tlest and  the  best  God  ever  made?" 

"If  you  mean  me,  I  won't  go  so  far  as 
that,"  said  Blanche.  "I  must  see  him 
first." 

201 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"See  Cazalet?" 

Toye  had  come  to  his  feet,  not  simply 
in  the  horror  and  indignation  which  had 
gradually  taken  possession  of  him,  but 
under  the  stress  of  some  new  and  sudden 
resolve. 

"Of  course,"  said  Blanche;  "of  course 
I  must  see  him  as  soon  as  possible." 
"Never  again!"  he  cried. 
"What?" 

"You  shall  never  speak  to  that  man 
again,  as  long  as  ever  you  live,"  said 
Toye,  with  the  utmost  emphasis  and  de- 
liberation. 

"Who's  going  to  prevent  me?" 
"I  am." 
"How?" 

"By  laying  an  information  against  him 
this  minute,  unless  you  promise  never  to 
see  or  to  speak  to  Cazalet  again," 

Blanche  felt  cold  and  sick,  but  the  bit 

202 


QUID    PRO    QUO 

of  downright  bullying  did  her  good.  "I 
didn't  know  you  were  a  blackmailer,  Mr. 
Toye!" 

"You  know  I'm  not ;  but  I  mean  to  save 
you  from  Cazalet,  blackmail  or  white." 

"To  save  me  from  a  mere  old  friend — 
nothing  more — nothing — all  our  lives!" 

"I  believe  that,"  he  said,  searching  her 
with  his  smoldering  eyes.  "You  couldn't 
tell  a  lie,  I  guess,  not  if  you  tried!  But 
you  would  do  something;  it's  just  a  man 
being  next  door  to  hell  that  would  bring 
a  God's  angel — "   His  voice  shook. 

She  was  as  quick  to  soften  on  her  side. 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  please,"  she 
begged,  forcing  a  smile  through  her  dis- 
tress. "Will  you  promise  to  do  nothing 
if — if  /  promise?" 

"Not  to  go  near  him  ?" 

"No." 

"Nor  to  see  him  here?" 
203 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

*'No." 

"Nor  anywhere  else  ?" 

"No.   I  give  you  my  word." 

"If  you  break  it,  I  break  mine  that 
minute  ?  Is  it  a  deal  that  way  ?" 

"Yes!   Yes!   I  promise!" 

"Then  so  do  I,  by  God!"  said  Hilton 
Toye. 


XIV 


FAITH    UNFAITHFUL 


"TT'S  all  perfectly  true,"  said  Cazalet 
1  calmly.  "Those  were  my  movements 
while  I  was  off  the  ship,  except  for  the 
five  hours  and  a  bit  that  I  was  away  from 
Charing  Cross.  I  can't  dispute  a  detail  of 
all  the  rest.  But  they'll  have  to  fill  in 
those  five  hours  unless  they  want  another 
case  to  collapse  like  the  one  against 
Scruton !" 

Old  Savage  had  wriggled  like  a  vener- 
able worm,  in  tlie  experienced  talons  of 
the  Bobby's  Bugbear ;  but  then  Mr.  Drink- 
water  and  his  discoveries  had  come  still 
worse  out  of  a  hotter  encounter  with  the 
truculent  attorney;  and  Cazalet  had  de- 

20:; 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

scribed  the  whole  thing  as  only  he  could 
describe  a  given  episode,  down  to  the  ulti- 
mate dismissal  of  the  charge  against 
Scruton,  with  a  gusto  the  more  cynical 
for  the  deliberately  low  pitch  of  his  voice. 
It  was  In  the  little  lodging-house  sitting- 
room  at  Nell  Gwynne's  Cottages ;  he  stood 
with  his  back  to  the  crackling  fire  that  he 
had  just  lighted  himself,  as  It  were,  al- 
ready at  bay ;  for  the  folding-doors  were 
in  front  of  his  nose,  and  his  eyes  roved 
incessantly  from  the  landing  door  on  one 
side  to  the  curtained  casement  on  the 
other.  Yet  sometimes  he  paused  to  gaze 
at  the  friend  who  had  come  to  warn  him 
of  his  danger;  and  there  was  nothing 
cynical  or  grim  about  him  then. 

Blanche  had  broken  her  word  for  per- 
haps the  first  time  In  her  life;  but  it  had 
never  before  been  extorted  from  her  by 
duress,   and   It   would   be   affectation   to 

206 


FAITH    UNFAITHFUL' 

credit  her  with  much  compunction  on  the 
point.  Her  one  great  quahn  lay  in  the 
possibility  of  Toye's  turning  up  at  any 
moment;  but  this  she  had  obviated  to 
some  extent  by  coming  straight  to  the 
cottages  when  he  left  her — presumably  to 
look  for  Cazalet  in  London,  since  she  had 
been  careful  not  to  mention  his  change  of 
address.  Cazalet,  to  her  relief,  but  also  a 
little  to  her  hurt,  she  had  found  at  his 
lodgings  in  the  neighborhood,  full  of  the 
news  he  had  not  managed  to  communicate 
to  her.  But  it  was  no  time  for  taking 
anything  but  his  peril  to  heart.  And  that 
they  had  been  discussing,  almost  as  man 
to  man,  if  rather  as  innocent  man  to  in- 
nocent man;  for  even  now,  or  perhaps 
now  in  his  presence  least  of  all,  Blanche 
could  not  bring  herself  to  believe  her  old 
friend  guilty  of  a  violent  crime,  however 
unpremeditated,    for  which   another  had 

207 


THE    THOUSANDTH   WOMAN 

been  allowed  to  suffer,  for  however  short 
a  time. 

And  yet,  he  seemed  to  make  no  secret 
of  it;  and  yet — it  did  explain  his  whole 
conduct  since  landing,  as  Toye  had  said. 

She  could  only  shut  her  eyes  to  what 
must  have  happened,  even  as  Cazalet  him- 
self had  shut  his  all  this  wonderful  week, 
that  she  had  forgotten  all  day  in  her  in- 
gratitude, but  would  never,  in  all  her 
days,  forget  again! 

"There  won't  be  another  case,"  she 
heard  herself  saying,  while  her  thoughts 
ran  ahead  or  lagged  behind  like  sheep. 
"It'll  never  come  out — I  know  it  won't." 

"Why  shouldn't  it?"  he  asked  so 
sharply  that  she  had  to  account  for  the 
words,  to  herself  as  well  as  to  him. 

"Nobody  knows  except  Mr.  Toye,  and 
he  means  to  keep  it  to  himself." 

"Why  should  he?" 
208 


FAITH    UNFAITITFUn 

'*I  don't  know.   He'll  tell  you  himself." 

"Are  you  sure  you  don't  know?  What 
can  he  have  to  tell  me?  Why  should  he 
screen  me,  Blanche?" 

His  eyes  and  voice  were  furious  with 
suspicion,  but  still  the  voice  was  lowered. 

"He's  a  jolly  good  sort,  you  know," 
said  Blanche,  as  if  the  whole  affair  was 
the  most  ordinary  one  in  the  world.  But 
heroics  could  not  have  driven  the  sense 
of  her  remark  more  forcibly  home  to  Caz- 
alet. 

"Oh,  he  is,  is  he?" 

"Fve  always  found  him  so." 

"So  have  I,  the  little  Fve  seen  of  him. 
And  I  don't  blame  him  for  getting  on 
my  tracks,  mind  you;  he's  a  bit  of  a  de- 
tective, I  w^as  fair  game,  and  he  did  warn 
me  in  a  way.  That's  why  I  meant  to  have 
the  week — "  He  stopped  and  looked 
away. 

209 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

*T  know.  And  nothing  can  undo  that," 
she  only  said ;  but  her  voice  swelled  with 
thanksgiving.  And  Cazalet  looked  reas- 
sured; the  hot  suspicion  died  out  of  his 
eyes,  but  left  them  gloomily  perplexed. 

"Still,  I  can't  understand  it.  I  don't  be- 
lieve it,  either!  I'm  in  his  hands.  What 
have  I  done  to  be  saved  by  Toye?  He's 
probably  scouring  London  for  me — if  he 
isn't  watching  this  window  at  this  min- 
ute!" 

He  went  to  the  curtains  as  he  spoke. 
Simultaneously  Blanche  sprang  up,  to  en- 
treat him  to  fly  while  he  could.  That  had 
been  her  first  object  in  coming  to  him 
as  she  had  done,  and  yet,  once  with  him, 
she  had  left  it  to  the  last!  And  now  it 
was  too  late;  he  was  at  the  window, 
chuckling  significantly  to  himself;  he  had 
opened  it,  and  he  was  leaning  out. 

"That  you,  Toye,  down  there?    Come 

2IO 


FAITH    UNFAITHFUI. 

up  and  show  yourself!  I  want  to  sec 
you." 

He  turned  in  time  to  dart  in  front  of 
the  folding-doors  as  Blanche  reached 
them,  white  and  shuddering.  The  flush  of 
impulsive  bravado  fled  from  his  face  at 
the  sight  of  hers. 

"You  can't  go  in  there.  What's  the 
matter?"  he  whispered.  "Why  should  you 
be  afraid  of  Hilton  Toye?" 

How  could  she  tell  him?  Before  she 
had  found  a  word,  tlie  landing  door 
opened,  and  Hilton  Toye  was  in  the  room, 
looking  at  her. 

"Keep  your  voice  down,"  said  Cazalet 
anxiously.  "Even  if  it's  all  over  with  me 
but  the  shouting,  we  needn't  start  the 
shouting  here !" 

He  chuckled  savagely  at  his  jest;  and 
now  Toye  stood  looking  at  him. 

"I've  heard  all  you've  done,"  continued 

211 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

Cazalet.  "I  don't  blame  3^011  a  bit.  If  it 
had  been  the  other  way  about,  I  might 
have  given  you  less  run  for  your  money. 
I've  heard  what  you've  found  out  about 
my  mysterious  movements,  and  you're  ab- 
solutely right  as  far  as  you  go.  You  don't 
know  why  I  took  the  train  at  Naples,  and 
traveled  across  Europe  without  a  hand- 
bag. It  wasn't  quite  the  put-up  job  you 
may  think.  But,  if  it  makes  you  any  hap- 
pier, I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  I  zuas 
at  Uplands  that  night,  and  I  did  get  out 
through  the  foundations !" 

The  insane  impetuosity  of  the  man  was 
his  master  now.  He  was  a  living  fire  of 
impulse  that  had  burst  into  a  blaze.  His 
voice  was  raised  in  spite  of  his  warning 
to  the  others,  and  the  very  first  sound  of 
Toye's  was  to  remind  him  that  he  was 
forgetting  his  own  advice.  Toye  had  not 
looked  a  second  time  at  Blanche ;  nor  did 

212 


FAITH  unfaithful: 

lie  now ;  but  he  touk  in  the  silenced  Caz- 
alet  from  head  to  heel,  by  inches. 

"I  always  guessed  you  might  be  crazy, 
and  I  now  know  it,"  said  IliUon  Toye. 
"Still,  I  judge  you're  not  so  crazy  as  to 
deny  that  while  you  were  in  that  house 
you  struck  down  Henry  Craven,  and  left 
him  for  dead  ?" 

Cazalet  stood  like  a  red-hot  stone. 

"Miss  Blanche,"  said  Toye,  turning  to 
her  rather  shyly,  'T  guess  I  can't  do  what 
I  said  just  yet.  I  haven't  breathed  a  word, 
not  yet,  and  perhaps  I  never  will,  if 
you'll  come  away  with  me  now — back  to 
your  home — and  never  see  Henry  Cra- 
ven's murderer  again!" 

"And  who  may  he  be?"  cried  a  voice 
that  brought  all  three  face-about. 

The  folding-doors  had  opened,  and  a 
fourth  figure  was  standing  between  the 
two  rooms. 


XV 

THE   PERSON   UNKNOWN 

THE  intruder  was  a  shaggy  elderly 
man,  of  so  cadaverous  an  aspect 
that  his  face  alone  cried  for  his  death-bed ; 
and  his  gaunt  frame  took  up  the  cry,  as 
it  swayed  upon  the  threshold  in  dressing- 
gown  and  bedroom  slippers  that  Toye  in- 
stantly recognized  as  belonging  to  Caza- 
let.  The  man  had  a  shock  of  almost  white 
hair,  and  a  less  gray  beard  clipped  roughly 
to  a  point.  An  unwholesome  pallor 
marked  the  fallen  features;  and  the  en- 
venomed eves  burned  low  in  their  sockets, 
as  they  dealt  with  Blanche  but  fastened  on 
Hilton  Toye. 

"What  do  you  know  about  Henry;  Cra- 
214 


THE    PERSON    UNKNOWN 

ven's  murderer?"  he  demanded  in  a  voice 
between  a  croak  and  a  crow.  "Have  they 
run  in  some  other  poor  devil,  or  were 
you  talking  about  me?  If  so,  I'll  start  a 
libel  action,  and  call  Cazalct  and  that 
lady  as  witnesses!" 

"This  is  Scruton,"  explained  Cazalet, 
"who  was  only  liberated  this  evening 
after  being  detained  a  week  on  a  charge 
that  ought  never  to  have  been  brought,  as 
I've  told  you  both  all  along."  Scruton 
thanked  him  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "I've 
brought  him  here,"  concluded  Cazalet, 
"because  I  don't  think  he's  fit  enough  to 
be  about  alone." 

"Nice  of  him,  isn't  it?"  said  Scruton 
bitterly.  "I'm  so  fit  that  they  wanted  to 
keep  me  somewhere  else  longer  than 
they'd  any  right ;  that  may  be  why  they 
lost  no  time  in  getting  hold  of  me  again. 
Nice,   considerate,   kindly  country!    Ten 

215 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

years  isn't  long  enough  to  have  you  as  a 
dishonored  guest.  'Won't  you  come  back 
for  another  week,  and  see  if  we  can't  ar- 
range a  nice  httle  sudden  death  and  bur- 
ial for  you?'  But  they  couldn't  you  see, 
blast  'em!" 

He  subsided  into  the  best  chair  in  the 
room,  which  Blanche  had  wheeled  up  be- 
hind him;  a  mioment  later  he  looked 
round,  thanked  her  curtly,  and  lay  back 
with  closed  eyes  until  suddenly  he  opened 
them  on  Cazalet. 

"And  what  was  that  you  were  saying 
— that  about  traveling  across  Europe  and 
being  at  Uplands  that  night?  I  thought 
you  came  round  by  sea  ?  And  what  night 
do  you  mean?" 

"The  night  it  all  happened,"  said  Caz- 
alet steadily. 

"You  mean  the  night  some  person  un- 
known knocked  Craven  on  the  head  ?" 

216 


"What  do  you  know  about  Henry  Craven's  nnir<lrrer?" 


TTll'.    I'I'RSOX    UNKNOWN 

"Yes." 

The  sick  man  threw  himself  forward  in 
the  chair.  "You  never  told  me  this!"  he 
cried  suspiciously ;  both  the  voice  and  the 
man  seemed  stronger. 

"There  was  no  point  in  telling  you." 

"Did  you  see  the  person?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  he  isn't  unknown  to  you?" 

"I  didn't  sec  liim  well." 

Scruton  looked  sharply  at  the  two  mute 
listeners.  They  were  very  intent,  indeed. 
"Who  are  these  people.  Cazalet?  No!  I 
know  one  of  'em,"  he  answered  himself 
in  the  next  breath.  "It's  Blanche  Mac- 
nair,  isn't  it  ?  I  thought  at  first  it  must  be 
a  younger  sister  grown  up  like  her.  You'll 
forgive  prison  manners,  Miss  iMacnair,  if 
that's  still  your  name.  You  look  a  wom- 
an to  trust — if  there  is  one — and  you  gave 
me  your  chair.    Anyhow,  you've  been  in 

217 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

for  a  penny  and  you  can  stay  in  for  a 
pound,  as  far  as  I  care!  But  who's  your 
Amer'can  friend,  Cazalet?" 

"Mr.  Hilton  Toye,  who  spotted  that 
I'd  been  all  the  way  to  Uplands  and  back 
when  I  claimed  to  have  been  in  Rome  I" 

There  was  a  touch  of  Scruton's  bitter- 
ness in  Cazalet's  voice ;  and  by  some  sub- 
tle process  it  had  a  distinctly  mollifying 
effect  on  the  really  embittered  man. 

"What  on  earth  were  you  doing  at  Up- 
lands?" he  asked,  in  a  kind  of  confidential 
bewilderment. 

*T  went  down  to  see  a  man." 

Toye  himself  could  not  have  cut  and 
measured  more  deliberate  monosyllables. 

"Craven?"  suggested  Scruton. 

"No;  a  man  I  expected  to  find  at  Cra- 
ven's." 

"The  writer  of  the  letter  you  found  at 
218 


TITF.    PF.RSOX    UNKNOWN 

Cook's    office    in    Naples    the    night    \(.u 
landed  there,  I  mess  I" 

It  really  was  Toye  this  time,  and  there 
was  no  guesswork  in  his  tone.  Obviously 
he  was  speaking  by  his  little  book,  though 
he  had  not  got  it  out  again. 

"How  do  you  know  I  went  to  Cook's?" 

"I  know  every  step  you  took  between 
the  Kaiser  Fritc  and  Charing  Cross  and 
Charing  Cross  and  the  Kaiser  Fritz!" 

Scruton  listened  to  this  interchange 
with  keen  attention,  hanging  on  each 
man's  lips  with  his  sunken  eyes ;  both  took 
it  calmly,  but  Scmton's  surprise  was  not 
hidden  by  a  sardonic  grin. 

"You've  evidently  liad  a  stern  chase 
with  a  Yankee  clipper !"  said  he.  "If  he's 
right  about  the  letter.  Cazalet,  I  should 
say  so ;  presumably  it  wasn't  from  Craven 
himself?" 

219 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"No." 

"Yet  it  brought  you  across  Europe  to 
Craven's  house?" 

"Well— to  the  back  of  his  house!  I 
expected  to  meet  my  man  on  the  river." 

"Was  that  how  you  missed  him  more 
or  less?" 

"I  suppose  it  was." 

Scruton  ruminated  a  little,  broke  into 
his  offensive  laugh,  and  checked  it  in- 
stantly of  his  own  accord.  "This  is  really 
interesting,"  he  croaked.  "You  get  to 
London — at  v/hat  time  was  it?" 

"Nominally  three  twenty-five;  but  the 
train  ran  thirteen  minutes  late,"  said  Hil- 
ton Toye. 

"And  you're  on  the  river  by  what 
time?"  Scruton  asked  Cazalet. 

"I  walked  over  Hungerford  Bridge, 
took  the  first  train  to  Surbiton,  got  a  boat 
there,  and  just  dropped  down  with  the 

220 


Till-:    PERSON    UNKNOWN 

stream.  I  don't  suppose  the  whole  thing 
took  me  very  much  mo^e  than  an  hour." 

"Aren't  you  forgetting  something?" 
said  Toye. 

"Yes,  I  was.  It  was  I  who  telephoned 
to  the  house  and  found  that  Craven  was 
out  motoring ;  so  there  was  no  hurry." 

"Yet  you  weren't  going  to  see  Henry 
Craven?"  murmured  Toye. 

Cazalet  did  not  answer.  His  last  words 
had  come  in  a  characteristic  burst;  now 
he  had  his  mouth  shut  tight,  and  his  eyes 
were  fast  to  Scruton.  He  might  ha\e 
been  in  the  witness-box  already,  a  doomed 
wretch  cynically  supposed  to  be  giving 
evidence  on  his  own  behalf,  but  actually 
only  baring  his  neck  by  inches  to  the  rope, 
under  the  joint  persuasion  of  judge'  and 
counsel.  Rut  he  had  one  friend  by  him 
still,  one  who  had  edged  a  little  nearer  in 
the  pause. 

22  I 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"But  you  did  see  the  man  you  went  to 
see?"  said  Scruton. 

Cazalet  paused.  "I  don't  know.  Even- 
tually somebody  brushed  past  me  in  the 
dark.  I  did  think  then — but  I  can't  swear 
to  him  even  now !" 

"Tell  us  about  it." 

"Do  you  mean  that,  Scruton?  Do  you 
insist  on  hearing  all  that  happened.  I'm 
not  asking  Toye ;  he  can  do  what  he  likes. 
But  you,  Scruton — you've  been  through  a 
lot,  you  know — you  ought  to  have 
stopped  m  bed — do  you  really  want  this 
on  top  of  all?" 

"Go  ahead,"  said  Scruton.  "I'll  have  a 
drink  when  you've  done;  somebody  give 
me  a  cigarette  meanwhile." 

Cazalet  supplied  the  cigarette,  struck 
the  match,  and  held  it  with  unfaltering 
hand.  The  two  men's  eyes  met  strangely 
across  the  flame. 

222 


Till'     PI'LRSOX    UNKNOWN 

"I'll  tell  you  all  exactl}-  what  happened ; 
you  can  believe  me  or  not  as  you  like. 
You  won't  forget  Lhat  I  knew  every  inch 
of  the  ground — except  one  altered  bit 
that  explained  itself."  Cazalet  turned  to 
Blanche  with  a  significant  look,  but  she 
only  drew  an  inch  nearer  still.  "Well,  it 
was  in  the  little  creek,  where  the  boat- 
house  is,  that  I  waited  for  my  man.  He 
never  came — by  the  river.  I  heard  the 
motor,  but  it  wasn't  Henry  Craven  that 
I  wanted  to  see,  but  the  man  who  was 
coming  to  see  liim.  Eventually  T  thought 
I  must  have  made  a  mistake,  or  he  might 
have  changed  his  mind  and  come  by  road. 
The  dressing-gong  had  gone;  at  least  I 
supposed  it  was  that  by  the  time.  It  was 
almost  quite  dark,  and  I  landed  and  went 
up  the  path  past  the  back  premises  to  the 
front  of  the  house.  So  far  I  hadn't  seen 
a  soul,  or  been  seen  by  one,  evidently ;  but 

22"^ 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

the  French  windows  Avere  open  in  what 
used  to  be  my  father's  library,  the  room 
was  all  lit  up,  and  just  as  I  got  there  a 
man  ran  out  into  the  flood  of  light  and — " 

"I  thought  you  said  he  brushed  by  you 
in  the  dark?"  interrupted  Toye. 

*T  was  in  the  dark ;  so  was  he  in  an- 
other second ;  and  no  power  on  earth 
would  induce  me  to  swear  to  him.  Do  you 
want  to  hear  the  rest,  Scruton,  or  are  you 
another  unbeliever?" 

"I  want  to  hear  every  word— more 
than  ever!" 

Toye  cocked  his  head  at  both  question 
and  answer,  but  inclined  it  quickly  as 
Cazalet  turned  to  him  before  proceeding". 

'T  went  in  and  found  Henry  Craven 
lying  in  his  blood.  That's  gospel — it  was 
so  I  found  him— lying  just  where  he  had 
fallen  in  a  heap  out  of  the  leather  chair 
at  his  desk.    The  top  right-hand  drawer 

224 


TliJC    rM'RSOX    UNKNOWN 

of  his  dfsk  was  open,  the  key  in  it  and  the 
rest  of  the  bunch  still  swinging!  A  re- 
volver lay  as  it  had  dropped  upon  the 
desk — it  had  upset  the  ink — and  there 
were  cartridges  lying  loose  in  the  open 
drawer,  and  the  revolver  was  loaded.  I 
swept  it  back  into  the  drawer,  turned  the 
key  and  removed  it  with  the  bunch.  But 
there  was  something  else  on  the  desk — 
that  silver-mounted  truncheon — and  a 
man's  cap  was  lying  on  the  floor.  I 
picked  them  both  up.  My  flrst  instinct,  I 
confess  it,  was  to  remove  every  sign  of 
manslaughter  and  to  leave  the  scene  to 
be  reconstructed  into  one  of  accident — 
seizure — anything  but  what  it  was !" 

He  paused  as  if  waiting  for  a  question. 
None  was  asked.  Toye's  mouth  might 
have  been  seu  n  up,  his  eyes  were  like  hat- 
pins driven  into  his  head.  The  other  two 
simply  stared. 


22^ 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"It  was  a  mad  idea,  but  I  had  gone 
mad,"  continued  Cazalet.  "I  had  hated 
the  victim  aUve,  and  it  couldn't  change 
me  that  he  was  dead  or  dying;  that  didn't 
make  him  a  white  man,  and  neither  did 
it  necessarily  blacken  the  poor  devil  who 
had  probably  suffered  from  him  like  the 
rest  of  us  and  only  struck  him  down  in 
self-defense.  The  revolver  on  the  desk 
made  that  pretty  plain.  It  was  out  of  the 
way,  but  now  I  saw  blood  all  over  the 
desk  as  well ;  it  was  soaking  into  the  blot- 
ter, and  it  knocked  the  bottom  out  of  my 
idea.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  I  had  med- 
dled already ;  how  could  I  give  the  alarm 
without  giving  myself  away  to  that  ex- 
tent, and  God  knows  how  much  further? 
The  most  awful  moment  of  the  lot  came 
as  I  hesitated — the  dinner-gong  went  off 
in  the  hall  outside  the  door!    I  remember 

226 


THE    PERSOX    rXKXOWN 

watching  the  thing  on  the  floor  to  see  if 
it  would  move. 

"Then  I  lost  my  head — absolutely.  I 
turned  the  key  in  the  dour,  to  give  myself 
a  few  seconds'  grace  or  start ;  it  reminded 
me  of  the  keys  in  my  hands.  One  of  them 
was  one  of  those  little  «'ound  bramah  keys. 
It  seemed  familiar  to  me  even  after  so 
many  years.  I  looked  up,  and  there  was 
my  father's  Michelangelo  closet,  with  its 
little  round  bramah  keyhole.  I  opened 
it  as  the  outer  door  was  knocked  at  and 
then  tried.  But  my  mad  instinct  of  alter- 
ing every  possible  appearance,  to  mislead 
the  police,  stuck  to  me  to  the  last.  And  I 
took  the  man's  watch  and  chain  into  the 
closet  with  me,  as  well  as  the  cap  and 
truncheon  that  I  had  picked  up  before. 

"I  don't  know  how  long  I  was  above 
ground,  so  to  speak,  but  one  of  my  fa- 

227 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

ther's  objects  had  been  to  make  his  re- 
treat sound-tight,  and  I  could  scarcely 
hear  what  was  going  on  in  the  room. 
That  encouraged  me;  and  two  of  vou 
don't  need  telling  how  I  got  out  through 
the  foundations,  because  you  know  all 
about  the  hole  I  made  myself  as  a  boy  in 
the  floor  under  the  oilcloth.  It  took  some 
finding  with  single  matches ;  but  the  fear 
of  your  neck  gives  you  eyes  in  your  fin- 
ger-ends, and  gimlets,  too,  by  Jove!  The 
worst  part  was  getting  out  at  the  other 
end,  into  the  cellars ;  there  were  heaps  of 
empty  bottles  to  move,  one  by  one,  before 
there  was  room  to  open  the  manhole  door 
and  to  squirm  out  over  the  slab;  and  I 
thought  they  rang  like  a  peal  of  bells,  but 
I  put  tlieni  all  back  again,  and  apparently 
.  .  .  nobody  overheard  in  the  scullery. 
"The  big  dog  barked  at  me  like  blazes — 
he  did  again  the  other  day — but  nobody 

228 


THE    PERSON    l^NKNOWN 

seemed  to  hear  him  either.  I  got  tu  my 
boat,  tipped  a  fellow  on  the  towing  path 
'  to  take  it  back  and  pay  for  it — why 
haven't  the  police  got  hold  of  him? — and 
ran  down  to  the  bridge  over  the  weir.  I 
stopped  a  big  car  with  a  smart  shaver 
smoking  his  pipe  at  the  wheel.  I  shonld 
have  thought  he'd  have  come  forward  for 
the  reward  that  was  put  up ;  but  I  pre- 
tended T  was  late  for  dinner  I  had  in 
town,  and  I  let  him  drop  me  at  the  Grand 
Hotel.  He  cost  me  a  fiver,  but  I  had  on  a 
waistcoat  lined  with  notes,  and  I'd  more 
than  five  minutes  in  hand  at  Charing 
Cross.  If  you  want  to  know,  it  was  the 
time  in  hand  that  gave  me  the  whole  idea 
of  doubling  back  to  Genoa;  I  must  have 
been  half-way  up  to  town  before  I 
thought  of  it !" 

He  had  told  the  whole  thing  as  he  al- 
ways could  tell  an  actual  experience ;  that 

229 


THE    TPIOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

was  one  reason  why  it  rang  so  true  to  one 
listener  at  every  point.  But  the  sick  man's 
sunken  eyes  had  advanced  from  their 
sockets  in  cumukitive  amazement.  And 
Hilton  Toye  laughed  shortly  when  the 
end  was  reached. 

"You  figure  some  on  our  credulity!" 
was  his  first  comment. 

"I  don't  figure  on  anything  from  you, 
Toye,  except  a  pair  of  handcuffs  as  a  first 
instalment !" 

Toye  rose  in  prompt  acceptance  of  the 
challenge.  "Seriously,  Cazalet,  you  ask 
us  to  believe  that  you  did  all  this  to  screen 
a  man  you  didn't  have  time  to  recog- 
nize : 

"I've  told  you  the  facts." 

"Well,  I  guess  you'd  better  tell  them 
to  the  police."  Toye  took  his  hat  and 
stick.  Scruton  was  struggling  from  his 
chair.     Blanche  stood   petrified,   a  dove 

230 


THE    PERSON    UXKXO\\'N 

under  a  serpent's  spell,  as  Toye  made  her 
a  sardonic  bow  from  the  landing  door. 
"You  broke  your  side  of  the  contract, 
;Miss  Blanche!  I  guess  it's  up  to  me  to 
complete." 

"Wait!" 

It  was  Scruton's  raven  croak ;  he  had 
tottered  to  his  feet. 

"Sure,"  said  Toye,  "if  you've  anything 
you  want  to  say  as  an  interested  party." 

"Only  this— he's  told  the  truth !'' 

"Well,  can  he  prove  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Scruton.  "But  I 
can!" 

"You?"   Blanche  chimed  in  there. 

"Yes,  I'd  like  that  drink  first,  if  you 
don't  mind,  Cazalet."  It  was  Blanche  who 
got  it  for  him,  in  an  instant.  "Thank 
you!  I'd  say  more  if  my  blessing  was 
worth  having — but  here's  something  that 
is.     Listen  to  this,  you  American  gentle- 

231 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

man :  I  was  the  man  who  wrote  to  him  in 
Naples.  Leave  it  at  that  a  minute;  it  was 
my  second  letter  to  him ;  the  first  was  to 
Australia,  in  answer  to  one  from  him.  It 
was  the  full  history  of  my  downfall.  I 
got  a  warder  to  smuggle  it  out.     That 


)j 


letter  was  my  one  chance. 

"I  know  it  by  heart,"  said  Cazalet.  "It 
was  that  and  nothing  else  that  made  me 
leave  before  the  shearing." 

"To  meet  me  when  I  came  out !"  Scru- 
ton  explained  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "To 
— to  keep  me  from^  going  straight  to  that 
man,  as  I'd  told  him  I  should  in  my  first 
letter!  But  you  can't  hit  these  things  off 
to  the  day  or  the  week;  he'd  told  me 
where  to  write  to  him  on  his  voyage,  and 
I  wrote  to  Naples,  but  that  letter  did  not 
get  smuggled  out.  J\Iy  warder  friend  had 
got  the  sack.  I  had  to  put  what  I'd  got  to 
say  so  that  you  could  read  it  two  ways. 
So    I   told   you,    Cazalet,    I    was    going 

232 


TJIR    PIJ^SOX    rXKXOWN' 

strriiglit  lip  the  river  for  a  row — and  vou 
can  |)i'(>ni)iincc  that  two  ways.  And  T  said 
I  h(jpcd  I  sh(nildn't  l)reak  a  scull — hut 
there's  another  way  of  spelling  that,  and 
it  was  the  other  way  I  meant!"  He 
chuckled  grimly.  "I  wanted  you  to  lie 
low  and  let  mc  lie  low  if  that  hapj)ened. 
I  wanted  just  one  man  in  the  world  to 
know^  I'd  done  it.  But  that's  how  we  came 
to  miss  each  other,  for  you  timed  it  to  a 
tick,  if  )-ou  hadn't  misread  me  about  the 
river." 

He  drank  again,  stood  straighter,  and 
found  a  fuller  voice. 

"Yet  I  never  meant  to  do  it  unless  he 
made  me,  and  at  the  back  of  my  brain  I 
never  thought  he  would.  I  thought  he'd 
do  something  for  me,  after  all  he'd  done 
before!    Shall  I  tell  you  what  he  did?" 

"Got  out  his  revolver!"  cried  Cazalet 
in  a  voice  that  was  his  own  justification 
as  well. 

233 


THE   THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

"Pretending  it  was  going  to  be  his 
check-book!"  said  Scrnton  through  his 
teeth.  "But  I  heard  him  trying  to  cock 
it  inside  his  drawer.  There  was  his  spe- 
cial constable's  truncheon  hanging  on  the 
wall — silver  mounted,  for  all  the  world 
to  know  how  he'd  stood  up  for  law  and 
order  in  the  sight  of  men !  I  tell  you  it 
was  a  joy  to  feel  the  weight  of  that  tnm- 
cheon,  and  to  see  the  hero  of  Trafalgar 
Square  fumbling  with  a  thing  he  didn't 
understand !  I  hit  him  as  hard  as  God 
would  let  me — and  the  rest  you  know — 
except  that  I  nearly  did  trip  over  the  man 
who  swore  it  was  broad  daylight  at  the 
time!" 

He  tottered  to  the  folding-doors,  and 
stood  there  a  moment,  pointing  to  Cazalet 
with  a  hand  that  twitched  as  terribly  as 
his  dreadful  face. 

"No — the  rest  you  did — the  rest  you 

234 


Till-:    PKkSON    UNKNOWN 

did  to  srnc  what  wasn't  worth  saving! 
But — I  think — I'll  hold  out  long  enough 
to  thank  you — just  a  little!"  He  was  gone 
with  a  gibbering  smile. 

Cazalet  turned  straight  to  Toye  at  the 
other  door.  "Well?  Aren't  you  going, 
too?  You  were  near  enough,  you  see! 
I'm  an  accessory  all  right" — he  dropped 
his  voice — "but  I'd  be  principal  if  I  could 
instead  of  hbn!" 

But  Toye  had  come  back  into  the  room, 
twinkling  with  triumph,  even  rubbing  his 
hands.  "You  didn't  see?  You  didn't  sec? 
T  never  meant  to  go  at  all ;  it  was  a  bit 
of  bluff  to  make  him  own  up,  and  it  did, 
too,  bully!" 

The  couple  gasped. 

"You  mean  to  tell  me,"  cried  Cazalet, 
"that  you  believed  my  story  all  the  time  ?" 

"Why,  I  didn't  have  a  moment's  doubt 
about  it!" 

2ZS 


THE    THOUSANDTH    WOMAN 

Cazalet  drew  away  from  the  chuckling 
creature  and  his  crafty  glee.  But  Blanche 
came  forward  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"Will  you  forgive  me,  Mr.  Toye?" 

"Sure,  if  I  had  anything  to  forgive. 
It's  the  other  way  around,  I  guess,  and 
about  time  I  did  something  to  help."  He 
edged  up  to  the  folding-door.  "This  is  a 
two-man  job,  Cazalet,  the  way  I  make  it 
out.   Guess  it's  my  watch  on  deck!" 

"The  other's  the  way  to  the  police  sta- 
tion," said  Cazalet  densely. 

Toye  turned  solemn  on  the  word.  "It's 
the  way  to  hell,  if  Miss  Blanche  will  for- 
give me!  This  is  more  like  the  other 
place,  thanks  to  you  folks.  Guess  I'll  leave 
the  angels  in  charge  I" 

Angelic  or  not,  the  pair  were  alone  at 
last;  and  through  the  doors  they  heard  a 
quavering  croak  of  welcome  to  the  rather 
human  god  from  the  American  machine. 

236 


'rill-:  pilRson  unknown 

"I'm  afraid  he'll  never  go  ijack  with 
you  to  the  bush,"  whisjx^red  Blanche. 

"Scruton?" 

"Yes." 

"I'm  afraid,  too.  But  I  wanted  to  take 
somebody  else  out,  too.  I  was  trying 
to  say  so  over  a  week  ago,  when  we  were 
talking  about  old  Venus  Potts.  Blanchie, 
will  you  come  ?" 


THE   END 


1 


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